Wanted: Dead or Destroyed
by ThePro-LifeCatholic
Summary: This story has been discontinued. It will be re-started later.
1. Warnings and Dedications

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes: ****Sup, ya'll! It's good to be back! See, I gave up computer for Lent.**

**Platyborg: You did **_**WHAT?**_

**P.t.S.****: You'd better believe it. Anywho, I decided to start this new creation of mine with dedications and a warning.**

…

_**WARNING! THIS WORK OF FANFICTION HAS BEEN RATED "T" FOR REASONS MADE KNOWN TO YOU IN THE SUMMARY. THIS STORY IS GOING TO HAVE CLEMATIC ELEMENTS, MANY CHARACTER DEATHS (SOME OF THEM RATHER VIOLENT), AND CHOCK-FULL OF DARK, SUSPENSFUL MOMENTS. THIS STORY TAKES PLACE IN THE 2ND DIMENSION, AND MANY OF THE CHARACTERS (with the exception of Vanessa Doofenshmirtz) THAT DID NOT MAKE IT INTO THE MOVIE ARE GOING TO END UP DYING.**_

_**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**_

Now, onto the dedications!

Firstly, I dedicate this story to God. Without Him, I wouldn't even _exist._

Second, I dedicate this story to Savanahcat (someone on deviant ART) for giving me the inspiration to actually _start_ writing fanfiction.

Third, I dedicate this book to **TheDarkLordDuroth** and **ResistingtheBorg** for helping me with my story.

Fourthly, I dedicate this book to all the reviewers and all the others who will help in the making of this story, whether you know it or not.

Fifth, I dedicate this story to my family and friends for putting up with my weird obsessions and allowing me to use the computer as often as I do.

If I have missed anything (or anyone) then please don't hesitate to let me know.

And now, onto the tale!


	2. Chapter 1: Christmas, Vow for Revenge

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** My story is going to be amazing!**

**Platyborg: Yea, yea. So you've told us all.**

**P.t.S.****: (sticks her tongue out at Platyborg)**

**Phineas: Oh, yea, P.t.S. Really mature.**

**Ferb: (giggles)**

**P.t.S.****: Whatever. HEY. . . Phineas and Ferb, you're not even supposed to be here!**

**Phineas and Ferb: Oh yea, he-he. . . (run away with ****P.t.S.**** chasing them madly)**

**. . .**

**Platyborg: Well, then.**

Snow fell softly outside the windows of a house situated in a mountain valley between the feet of two mighty mountains. This village was called Gimmelshtump, named after the mountain range that kept their village safe and protected, the Gimmelshtine Mountains. One of the most important members of this small town was Mr. Doofenshmirtz, renowned for his many exploits and travels. He was tall, with a somewhat bushy beard and mustache. He was usually seen wearing a cape, and he was always seen with his, uh, "hat", which had a horn sticking out of the hat's right side, and a weird looking stick on its left. His wife was Mrs. Doofenshmirtz. Mrs. Doofenshmirtz was a rather plump woman, with a small mouth that seemed to be ever on the verge of smiling, and her brown hair kept up in a bun. They were a happy couple, and the proud parents of two sons: Heinz and Roger Doofenshmirtz.

Heinz was born first, and, well, let's just say that his parents went a little overboard with him. They painted their entire house purple (Doof's favorite color) and they wrote "Doof" all over the walls and ceiling. The wall space was nearly completely taken up with pictures of little Heinz and his favorite things, such as ballooney. But what really made other people comment was the fact that Heinz was missing an eye. His parents didn't go into that much detail, of course. An accident happened shortly after he was born, and, well, that's all that they would reveal. So everyone else came up with their frightening versions of the tragedy. Then came Roger. His mother and father _did_ love him, but Roger often felt left out, and Heinz did look down on his brother sometimes. But today was Christmas, and there was no time for sibling rivalry that morning. Heinz threw his pillow at Roger's head.

"Wake up, Roger!" Heinz hissed, barely able to keep his voice down from excitement. "It's Christmas!"

The latter was awake instantly, and the two boys snuck downstairs. Santa had indeed been there last night. The stockings were bulging by the fireplace, presents were heaped underneath the tree, and the huge slice of Dinkleberry cake was gone. Heinz and Roger yanked their stockings down (they often had to replace their stockings, due to them getting ripped because of this) and candy tumbled out. Roger and Heinz fell to with much gusto, until they heard someone clearing his throat behind them. The boys wheeled 'round, and say their father and mother standing there. Mr. Doofenshmirtz looked so terribly angry for a moment, that the two boys didn't know where to look. Suddenly, their father's face softened, and he laughed.

"Next time," he said, "wait for your mother and me."

"Yes, Daddy." Said Heinz and Roger.

The presents under the tree were set upon next. Mrs. Doofenshmirtz got some new fabric for a dress, Mr. Doofenshmirtz got a new staff bearing his family's emblem, and Roger got a Spitzen-hound puppy that, unknown to him, was won by his father in a game of "Poke the Goozim with a Stick".

Heinz's first package contained a set of train tracks. Another held a small wooden town that looked remarkably like Gimmelshtump, with little people, as well. Soon there was just one more present under the tree.

"It's for you, Heinz." Said Mrs. Doofenshmirtz, handing it to him with a mysterious smile. Heinz ripped off the paper excitedly, and lifted the lid off the box. There was a moment of silence, and then Heinz slowly lifted a golden-painted, toy train from the package.

"It's, it's beautiful." He whispered in a small voice.

"Only the best for our best son." Replied Mr. Doofenshmirtz proudly.

Roger stopped playing with Christmas (the name he had given his puppy) when he heard that. Suddenly, Roger felt hurt, angry, and cheated. This wasn't fair that Heinz should have all the attention, while he, Roger Doofenshmirtz, was forced to bow to his older brother's wants and needs. Right then and there, Roger vowed secretly to himself to get revenge on Heinz for all of this. Every bit of it.


	3. Chapter 2: Lost

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Yeah! Two chapters in one day!**

**Platyborg: Oh yea, look at you. You type two chapters in one day. Suddenly some sort of fanfiction genius.**

**P.t.S.****: Whatever.**

**Doof-2: Hey. . .this story's about **_**ME!**_** I love this story already!**

Doof lay in his bed, his back turned to his brother, who was sitting in his bed, stunned silent. Heinz didn't know why, but he felt. . ._good_ about what he had just did. Roger deserved it anyway, after what he had done. . . .

(earlier)

Heinz was up even before the sun had risen. Ever since Christmas, Heinz had been waking up especially early, so that way he could play with his most beloved possession, "Choo-choo" he called it. He had left Choo-choo on the circular track, all ready and waiting, like so many other days, for Heinz to play with it. But when Heinz reached the family room, it looked like a tornado had swept across the tracks. The tracks themselves were still intact, but the little village and its inhabitants were scattered throughout the room. This, though, was not the worst part of it all. . .

"Choo-choo?" asked Heinz to the empty room, scratching his head. He begged his mother and father to let him stay home from school, and spent the entire day looking for his prized possession. Heinz was so busy turning the house upside down in an attempt to find Choo-choo, that he didn't seem to notice Roger's somewhat strange behavior. He seemed to be stalking Heinz as he searched, and watched Heinz intently as they were eating lunch. When Heinz turned his own gaze towards his younger brother, though, Roger avoided it, as if a single glance from his older brother would cause him to burst into flames and melt. Night fell, and poor Doof was forced to go to bed without his toy. He felt like his heart would break.

"Heinz!" called his mother from the kitchen. "Add some more logs to the fire, would you?"

Heinz walked over to the fire, and stuffed some more tinder into the flames. As he stirred the jumping sparks, something flashed in his eyes. Something golden. Heinz bent closer in order to investigate, and gasped. Golden wheels.

"How could you?" Heinz wept as he tore into the bedroom that he and Roger shared. Roger turned over in his bed, and looked straight into his brother's face. He was not smiling.

You, you were always Mum's and Dad's favorite," Roger said slowly, coldly. "They don't like me at all. And that stupid train. . . .well, that was the last straw. Now maybe you'll think twice before making me feel inferior."

Heinz was speechless. He crawled into his bed, and an awkward quiet settled over the room. Roger began to weep into his pillow. He hadn't really meant what he had done. He didn't want Heinz and him to be enemies.

"Heinz. . .?" He asked in a shaky, small voice. Silence. "Bro. . . . .I'm sorry. I didn't really mean. . ."

"I hate you."

Now it was time for Roger to be speechless.

"What?"

"**I. Hate. **_**You.**_"

Doof lay in his bed, his back turned to his brother, who was sitting in his bed, stunned silent. Heinz didn't know why, but he felt. . ._good_ about what he had just did. Roger deserved it anyway, after what he had done. . . .


	4. Chapter 3: Plans

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes****: Man. I am both very happy, and yet somewhat disgusted, about how this story is going. I mean, just imagine if this stuff happened in **_**real life.**_

**Platyborg: You're breaking the Fourth Wall by saying that, you realize.**

**(Fourth Wall behind them shatters)**

**P.t.S.****: (Glares at Platyborg) You're fixing it.**

As Heinz grew older, his hatred for his brother and what he had done clung to him, and became stronger. He became sullen, set apart, and didn't interact with anyone as much. In fact, he took to building and tinkering with metal devices rather than with other people. One of his first inventions, however, took its toll on young Doof, and he had a souvenir of it for the rest of his life. Heinz had been attempting to make a robot, and was ready to turn on the power. Unfortunately for Heinz, he had _not_ put on safety glasses, and he was _not_ keeping his distance. He plugged in the power cord.

"KABOOM!" The robot erupted, and metal pieces flew about the room. Heinz turned his head away, but a moment too late. A screwdriver, which had been lying on Doof's worktable, went rocketing forward, and hit Doof. Starting near the top, left part of Doof's head, the tool cut downwards, slashing through Doof's eyepatch and finally leaving Heinz's face as it neared his chin. Heinz survived this predicament, but was left with a nasty scar that ran down the left part of his face. Mr. and Mrs. Doofenshmirtz gave Heinz a brand new, black eyepatch. But Heinz, as if this one little detail would separate the old, good Heinz from this new, _evil_ Heinz, traced the scar that was under his patch onto his eyepatch.

When Roger and Heinz were adults, Roger left Gimmelshtump in order to go to the Tri-State Area, a town that had been rapidly growing and modernizing, in hopes to become its mayor. Heinz followed his brother closely, still vowing to avenge his poor Choo-choo's horrible fate. As Roger was doing his thing, Heinz fell in love with a woman named Charlene, and had a daughter not long after. Doof hoped that this would drive this unpleasant new feeling away, but it was while he was trying to get rid of it that Heinz realized that he, surprisingly, sort of _enjoyed_ his newfound dark emotions. Of course, after Heinz had made this discovery, he decided it would be better if he did his. . . . . . ._work_ alone. So he got into a big fight with Charlene and divorced her, although they promised to share their daughter, Vanessa, between them. Heinz immediately changed his name to "Doctor Doofenshmirtz", and began thinking of some sort of annihilation ray, or something like that. Little did Heinz know, though, that he was being observed. . . . .

A man with black hair, cut low and even, and a black mustache was sitting in front of some very large computer screens. He was Francis Monogram, one of the leading founders (the other was a woman named Wanda) of a top-secret organization of animal agents known as the OWCA (Organization Without a Cool Acronym). Francis didn't know why he had chosen animals; He guessed it was because animals were not likely to betray these sorts of things to other people. He had cameras set up all over the world, but most of them were situated here, in the Tri-State Area, where the OWCA HQ was located. Monogram (as he liked to be called), was watching the screens intently. He was itching to have something _challenging_ face up to his new organization. Francis looked around the HQ, and sighed. He would need an intern, or something, to help clean up around here, and to work cameras. Monogram was not very good at that. A flashing red light brought Monogram's attention back to the computers.

"Possible Threat has been located," said an automated voice. Monogram pressed a glowing button, and zoomed in on camera scene #8723. It showed a picture of Doofenshmirtz, assembling metal stuff and piecing them together into some sort of mishmash.

"Great googly-moogly!" Monogram exclaimed. He looked up "File:Agents" on the computer. He clicked on "Agents:Tri-State Area", and saw that a fresh shipment was being sent to the OWCA Danville Adoption Center. Now, all Francis needed was someone to work there, and he knew just the young man for the job. . .

(about 2 months later)

Doofenshmirtz stood back and looked with disgust at his invention. He had just done the test-run, and this robot (named "Norm" by the evil scientist) was not exactly. . .well. . ._threatening_. He did make some tasty muffins, though. Doof was about to mark Norm as a "failure", when an idea sprung into the man's scarred head. As Doof thought, the idea grew, and Doofenshmirtz smiled to himself. He then walked over to Norm and took him apart.

Doof spent the rest of the week brainstorming, planning, failing, and starting again. Finally, the night before his hated brother, Roger, was supposed to make his "Nomination to Mayor Again" speech, Doofenshmirtz was done. But Doof had only made _one_ working model, and he needed more. A lot more. Doof thought some more, then snapped his fingers excitedly.

"I know what to do!" He exclaimed. "Why waste my time building more of these things when another invention can do it for me?" Doof didn't bother to answer his own question, but went right to work building a Duplicate-inator. As he did so, an evil smile crept over his mouth. This invention could make all the devices he needed, and then some. Doof would be ready to execute his plan tomorrow. He would be ready. No one else would.


	5. Chapter 4: You May Panic NOW

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Well, Platyborg isn't here, because he's in this chapter, and not as a cyborg, soooooo, he can't give an intro with me.**

**Doof-2: I'm here!**

**Phineas-2: Do I come in yet?**

**Candace-2: Don't forget the warning.**

**P.t.S.****: Of course I remembered the warning! What, you don't think that I know what I'm doing?**

**. . . **

**Now, what are we warning the audience about?**

**Candace-2: (faceplams)**

_**WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS **__**CHARACTER DEATH.**_

(A house in Danville)

A 10-year-old girl with orange hair, wearing a red shirt, white skirt with red belt, and white shoes, was sitting in the middle of the family room floor of her house, playing with her Ducky Mo-Mo doll. A red-headed, 6-year-old boy was also in the family room, and he was building a tower out of blocks. It seemed ready to topple to the ground at any moment. Helping the redhead was a boy, slightly taller, with green hair, and a rectangular head and nose. He was 7 years old, and he and his younger brother loved to build and create with whatever they could get their hands on. The three children were siblings, their mother and father had both been divorced before they married each other. The mother, Mrs. Flynn, was the mother of the orange-haired girl (Candace Gertrude Flynn) and the redhead (Phineas Flynn). The father was British Mr. Fletcher, and he was the green-haired boy's (Ferb) real Dad. These three got along pretty well, and hardly argued. The Flynn-Fletchers also had a somewhat new addition to the family, a male baby platypus that they named Perry. They had got him about 2 months ago, but he had already begun to lose his chubbiness, and was getting longer. He also left, strangely, shortly after breakfast, only to return before supper. Phineas, Ferb, and Candace loved him dearly, but he seemed to be more Phineas and Ferb's pet. In fact, they had gotten Perry a locket with Ferb's, Phineas', and his pictures in it,

"So we can always be close to each other!" Phineas had explained.

A shadow suddenly passed by the open window, which darkened the outside and inside of the house. Candace, being the oldest, went to check on what was happening outside. She gasped at what she saw; a bunch of robots, without feet or legs, were flying past the houses. They were black, gray, and red. Their heads looked like buckets with glowing red visors on them; their three-fingered hands occasionally shot lasers. Candace ran to get her Mom.

"Mom!" she shouted. "There are robots flying past our house, and they're heading for the Capitol Building!" Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher came out of Lawrence Flynn-Fletcher's and her room. She sighed.

"Candace," she said, "I really don't think. . ." Then Mrs. Flynn stopped, and stared with open mouth when she looked out the window. "Candace," she said again, "Stay here with your brothers. I'm going to find out what's happening."

"Let me come, Mom." Candace pleaded. "What if you need my help? And besides," Candace added, "What if Stacy's gonna be there?" Mrs. Flynn sighed again.

"Alright, Candace. You may come."

The two left the house, after letting Lawrence (who had off that day) know that he was in charge of Phineas and Ferb. Candace and Mrs. Flynn followed the robots, and realized that they weren't the only ones. Traffic was backing up because of the sheer number of people who were rushing to get to the Capitol Building, which was indeed where these strange metallic creations were headed. Candace rolled down her window and peered out; she was certain that she saw a black-vested man on some sort of hover-platform up ahead. Sure enough, when Candace and her Mom reached their destination, they almost immediately encountered Mrs. Hirano and her daughter (and Candace's best friend), Stacy.

"Linda!" Mrs. Hirano called, waving her hand.

"Stacy!" exclaimed Candace, embracing her friend. Stacy was holding her own favorite stuffed animal, a bunny that she had named "Mr. Miggles". Complete silence fell, and Candace heard her mother (Linda) gasp. Candace craned her neck in order to see what was causing everyone to stare and gawk. Then she saw. Roger, the Tri-State Area's best and most well-liked mayor, was surrounded, and being held captive by, the robots. The man on the floating platform hovered down to the mayor, and Candace saw that he was missing an eye. This strange newcomer sneered at the mayor. Strangely, they looked similar, Roger and this menacing dude.

"So," leered Doof. "We meet again, _Roger_. Did you think that I might have given up? That I wouldn't have avenged my beloved friend's death?"

"It was just a train. . ." muttered Roger.

"JUST A TRAIN?" exploded the one-eyed man. "I, Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz, have had enough of you, _brother._" The crowd gasped. "That's right," continued Doofenshmirtz, enjoying the terror in everyone's (including Roger's) eyes. "Take a look around you! The beauty, the goodness, the peacefulness, the laughter, your pets, your friends, your family, all that you love and hold dear. I, Dr. Doofenshmirtz, soon to be sole, unconditional ruler of the Tri-State Area, am going to destroy it all. Starting with _you_." Doof glared right at Roger as he finished. Roger gulped. Doofenshmirtz raised himself higher into the air, and surveyed all that was below him. He then took something small from his pocket. He held it up for all to see.

"This," he shouted, "Is a bomb that I myself invented. It will go off in 2 minutes. You have that much time to get out of here. All those who don't. . ." Doof shrugged his shoulders. He pressed a button on the top of the bomb. "You may panic _now_." He stated, dropping the bomb right in between Roger's feet. Roger himself couldn't move, because he was penned in on all sides by. . .

"Oh, and those are my Normbots!" Doof shouted down, before hovering to safety, manically laughing as he did so. Complete mayhem ensued. Everyone rushed to the exits, scooping up their children, pushing and shoving anyone who stood in their way. Candace whipped her head around, trying to spot her mother amid the mob that surrounded her.

"MOM!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. _I don't wanna die. I can't die. I don't wanna die. . ._

"CANDACE!" Candace turned around, and saw her mother, jumping up and down frantically. Candace ran to her gratefully, and they forced their way out of the Capitol's parking lot and into the street.

_Where's Stacy?_

The bomb went off. A giant explosion swallowed the Capitol building, the parking lot, and hid the stragglers from view. What sounded like a million cymbals, drums, thunder, and any other loud, booming noise filled the air. Then, silence.

A search-and-rescue party was sent out as soon as the area cooled down. Unknown to her family, Candace snuck out to the explosion site, and began to search feverishly for any evidence of Stacy amid the debris. She hoped there wouldn't be, but her wish was not granted. Underneath one of the bucket-shaped head of a Normbot, Candace found a torn Mr. Miggles. She lifted him slowly up, looked at him for one long moment.

_She can't be gone, she can't be gone, she can't be gone, she can't be gone. . . _

Candace began to sob uncontrollably, her whole body shaking, her face buried in her hands.

_Stacy._

**Man, aren't I evil? I hate myself for this chapter, and yet, I'm happy about how it turned out. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 5: Agent Assignment

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** On with the story!**

**Phineas-2: Am I going to be in this story **_**at all**_**?**

**P.t.S.****: Of course you will! But first, I need to talk more about. . . . .PERRY!**

**Phineas-2: Oh.**

**Ferb-2: (blink, blink)**

**Isabella-2: When do I come in?**

**P.t.S.****: Don't worry. I've got ya'll covered. But the audience is getting restless, so let's just start, shall we?**

Perry waited until Phineas, Ferb, and Candace were preoccupied with their own activities. Phineas was sketching designs for some sort of catapult with mattress springs, and Ferb was editing and tweaking it. Candace was just sitting in a chair, holding Mr. Miggles, her eyes red and somewhat puffy. Perry looked at her sympathetically. He was going to set things to rights. Perry was a one-year-old platypus, with tealish, turquoisey fur, and a tangerine colored beak, beaver-like tail, and back webbed feet. His eyes were a dark brown. To Perry's family, he was just your average pet platypus; but little did any of them know that he was leading the life of a secret agent in the OWCA. Perry was headed, not to his lair, but to the OWCA's HQ, where he would be assigned his very own nemesis.

Perry went around the side of the Flynn-Fletcher house, took out his fedora, and gazed at it a minute. He had received it only a few days ago; he had trained rather quickly and hard the past few months, and that was because Monogram (the self-proclaimed major of the Organization Without a Cool Acronym) had more hope in this little monotreme than anyone else. Major Monogram believed that Perry was capable of taking down Dr. Doofenshmirtz. Perry put his fedora on, pressed a button on the house, and a segment of the wall went up, revealing a secret tunnel. Perry stepped in, and the wall covered the entrance back up. Perry was in a small elevator. He pressed a button labeled "HQ", and the elevator zoomed off. Perry passed by many clear tunnels that also contained agents, and there were mine cars and tracks for long distance travel. The elevator stopped several times, and agents got on and off. At one of these stops, Santa got on, and Perry smiled at him the entire duration of his presence, and got his autograph, which he tucked safely into his hat. When the elevator stopped, Perry stepped out, and was in the HQ. It didn't take long for Perry to find Monogram.

"Ah, Perry. . .I mean, Agent P," Monogram said, saluting the small agent. Perry saluted back, and the door opened behind them. A red-headed boy with freckles and purple glasses came in, holding a large stack of papers in his arms. He was Carl Karl, the intern.

"Here you go, sir," said the red-headed intern.

"Thanks, Carl," responded Monogram. He turned his attention once again to the platypus.

"As you have probably guessed, Agent P," Major Monogram said, looking at the first piece of paper on the pile, "Your new nemesis is Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. And, as you probably know, he has actually done something incredibly evil, dangerous, _life-threatening_. If we allow him to continue in this matter without interference, the fate of the _whole world_ could be at stake. This isn't so much a 'mission', as it is a chance for you to find out enough about Doofenshmirtz in order to be prepared to fight him tomorrow. Do you understand?" Perry nodded.

"Well, then," Monogram said. "Go get 'im, Agent P." He saluted, and Perry saluted back, and then left the HQ. He had a villain to look into.


	7. Chapter 6: A Deal's a Deal

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** My story is going along nicely; don't you agree?**

**Rodney: I'm the story too?**

**P.t.S.****: Well. . .DUH! You have a big part to play, although you **_**aren't**_** a main character.**

**Rodney: Well, I guess as long as I'm in the story. . .HEY! WHY DOES IT SAY "RODNEY" HERE? I'VE TOLD YOU (I don't know how many times) THAT MY NAME IS ALOYSIUS EVER HEART ELIZABETH OTTO WOLFGANG. . .**

**P.t.S.****: Do tell. Yea, so, we don't have any more time to waste on you or your name, **_**Rodney**_**, because, you aren't even in the story yet, and no one cares about what you think. **

**Rodney: (stunned silence)**

**(Rodney-2's POV)**

I walked over to my computer. I had helped Doofenshmirtz with his heinous plan involving the annihilation of his despised brother, and Doof had promised me some sort of wonderful reward. I logged onto Skype, and saw that the evil scientist Doof (who had also been part of L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. for several years now) was also on. I was deciding whether or not to bother him, when his face suddenly appeared on my screen.

"Hello, _Rodney_." Doofenshmirtz said my name like he hated me. Really hated me. I couldn't think of anything to deserve his attitude, except maybe the time that we got into an argument about who's nemesis was better (mine was a Panda), and I won, naturally, because Doof didn't have one then.

"Well, hello to you too, _Heinz_," I spitefully replied. "As you probably know, I'm here to except the reward that you promised me for helping you take over the Tri-State Area."

Heinz looked thoughtful a moment, as if trying to remember when he made such a deal. But I could see that he did. He turned back to the screen.

"Well, Rodney, there are a few. . ._problems_ with our little 'deal'. Firstly, I haven't really 'taken over' the Tri-State Area yet; I'm just lettin' people know about what's going to happen soon, so that way they aren't taken off-guard."

"Are you referring to the Dooferalls?" I questioned. I had come up with those. _Me and my evil genius,_ I thought.

"Yes, precisely that. Secondly, I never meant to give _you_ _anything_."

I was shocked, although I knew that I shouldn't be. He was an **evil scientist** fer cryin' out loud, and a pretty affective one, at that. So it only made sense that he wouldn't keep his end of the deal. I wouldn't have. But it hurt me all the same.

"What do you mean, not give _me anything_?"

"Precisely what I said; I'm not giving you anything. Period."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

"That's a lame excuse."

"When I'm really in charge, I'll use it all the time, and no one will think it's lame."

"Well, you aren't in charge _yet_, and you couldn't have done any of the stuff you just did without _my_ assistance. And you owe something to the League Of Villainous Evildoers Manically United For Frightening Investments in Naughtiness, aka L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N."

"Who came up with that name, anyway? It's so, _not-evil_ sounding!"

"You did."

". . ."

"I want my fair share in the glory."

"NO! I'm giving you anything! I thought I had already made it clear to you about that! And I'm not giving that group of happy little scientists anything, either. I fact, I think I've outgrown all of you."

". . . . . . .What are you getting at, Heinz?"

"Look, I'll just be honest. Back then, I suppose I sort of needed all the other evil guys. But now. . ." Doofenshmirtz paused, as if searching for the right words. "Now I don't need you. Look at how far I've come! Roger is dead, and so I'm technically mayor now, since I'm his brother. So, like I've already said, I don't need you, or L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. I've outgrown you. I'm independent of you. I don't _want_ you."

Rodney could hardly believe what Doof was saying. I mean, he and Rodney were not on the best of terms, but it had never gotten **this** serious. And the look on Doofenshmirtz's face told Rodney that he meant ever word that he was saying. Doof didn't look like he was done, either.

"And, Rodney. You should know the answer to this question better than anyone else I know, who are still alive, anyway. What do I do with the things that I neither need, nor want?"

Rodney gulped. He could feel sweat beginning to run down his face, although he felt cold all over. Yes, the great and powerful Rodney, often acclaimed as the best, most evil scientist ever, was _afraid._ Afraid. Suddenly, Doofenshmirtz's face lit up, and he smiled.

"Well, nice talkin' to you, Rodney. See ya' around!" Doof logged off.

Rodney continued to stare at the blank screen. Was Doof joking? Or was seriously considering wiping Rodney and the rest of L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. off the face of the planet? Orville, Rodney's son, walked over to his Dad. He could tell that there was something really wrong.

"Are you okay, Dad?" Orville asked the scientist in front of him. Rodney turned slowly, and faced the boy.

"Orville, go call up the other members of L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N., and tell them to meet up at the old abandoned Old Abandoned Theme Park." Rodney stood up and started for the door. "We have a little business that needs looking into immediately."


	8. Chapter 7: The Sound of Music

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Hello, Tri-State Area! How is everybody this morning?**

**Phineas-2: I'm still not playing a big role in this story.**

**P.t.S.****: I never said that you or Ferb were going to be playing "big roles". You're sort of background characters. This entire story mostly revolves around Dr. D, Candace, Perry, and other Resistance members. You don't even know that the Resistance even exists.**

**Phineas-2: Wait, we **_**weren't**_** supposed to know that. . .?**

**P.t.S.****: Where's the Amnesia-inator when you need it?**

**Phineas and Ferb-2: (Eyes widen in horror)**

**P.t.S.****: (Laughs evilly)**

**(third-person POV)**

_Doofenshmirtz. Mayor Doofenshmirtz._ Candace could not believe that the same person who had killed at least a hundred innocent people, Stacy included, was now the mayor of Danville. This wasn't fair. And he had already begun to establish crazy, tyrannical laws. For instance, every house had to have lawn gnomes in their yard. Well, that rule wasn't necessarily _tyrannical_, but there were other laws that were. Now, people had to have "Doof" or "Doofenshmirtz" written on their houses in some way, whether the words were painted, stuck, or hung on the houses. And Doof had just decreed that day that everyone was supposed to wear "Dooferalls": a white shirt worn underneath a pair of gray, itchy overalls (the girls' design looked more like a dress) with a red "D" on it, and uncomfortable black shoes. Candace was wearing her Doofendress now, and Phineas and Ferb were in their Dooferalls. Apparently, _Mayor_ Doofenshmirtz didn't like anyone's hair to have even the slightest semblance as his own, so he had all the boys and men cut or style their hair differently. So now Phineas' and Ferb's hair was stuck straight up, and cut to an even buzz cut. For the first time ever, Phineas and Ferb looked truly frightened. They weren't even building anything; just sitting on the floor, twiddling their thumbs. Phineas looked up after a moment, and scanned the room.

"Where's Perry?" He asked, his voice sounding worried. Candace looked around the room. It did have a surprising lack of platypuses, platipi, platypeople, oh, whatever.

"I don't know," she replied. Candace went to the window and looked outside. She saw Perry going around the side of the house. "How did he get outside?" Candace wondered aloud, as she slipped out into the backyard. As she walked, Candace meditated on their pet. He was always running off, but always returned at night. Even the Normbots, which were now beginning to patrol the streets of Danville 24/7, did not hinder this platypus's secret excursions.

Candace's train of thought was interrupted by. . .music? That was weird. No one was playing their radio, or anything; and Phineas and Ferb had not turned on the TV. It was a tune that Candace had never heard before, and it was coming from behind the house.

_Dooby, dooby, dooby, do-bah_

_ Dooby, dooby, dooby, do-bah_

_ Dooby, dooby, dooby, do-bah_

_ Perry!_

Candace ran silently to the end of the wall, and peered around it. She was shocked at what she saw: their pet platypus, standing on his hind legs, wearing a hat, disappearing into a hole in the wall that had never been there before. Before the secret entrance could close behind Perry, Candace raced forward and stopped it with her hand. She gazed into the small opening, and wondered if she could fit. Any other 10-year-old probably would've left the situation alone, or would've gone to get their parents. But Candace was not your average 10-year-old, living an average life. Wherever Perry went, Candace wanted to go. She would go anywhere to escape, even for a little bit, the misery and darkness that were beginning to surround her. After a few seconds of grunting and shoving, Candace had squeezed herself into the elevator, and the wall in front of closed, and she began her slow descent.

When she got out of the tunnel, Candace saw that she was in a large, dome-shaped room. It was filled with all sorts of gadgets, suits, a spa, and a large computer, or TV. But everything was small, platypus-sized and shaped. Candace walked over to a red chair that sat in front of the screen. Perry would be back, and Candace would wait as long as she needed for him to come. And when he did come back, Perry had a lot of explaining to do.


	9. Chapter 8: Read the Pamphlet

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** La, la, la, la, la. On with my happy tale!**

**Candace-2: **_**Happy?**_** You have **_**got**_** to be kidding me.**

**Phineas-2: Where am I? How did I get here?**

**Ferb-2: (Looks at Phineas) Who are you?**

**Phineas-2: (Looks at Ferb) Have we met?**

**P.t.S.**** and Candace-2: . . . . . . .**

**Candace-2: (Looks at ****P.t.S.****) I told you that the Amnesia-inator was a bad idea.**

**P.t.S.****: (Smiles innocently and blushes slightly)**

**(Third Person)**

Doofenshmirtz had finished building a Sick-inator, but he couldn't think of a sufficient reason to use it.

"I don't see why I _have_ to have a reason, though," Doof mused. "I mean, I didn't really have a reason to make all those crazy rules that I just made." Doofenshmirtz was interrupted by the door opening, and a woman with brown hair, glasses, and a bored expression walked into the room. Doofenshmirtz still didn't know how she managed to survive the explosion. Maybe she had been late to work that day.

"What do you want, Melanie?" Doof asked.

"You've been receiving numerous complaints from the citizens of Danville for your tyrannical behavior, including _me_." Melanie slammed a huge stack of papers on Doofenshmirtz's new black and purple desk, hard. She glared at the mayor. Doof turned and looked at her, annoyed.

"Hey, Melanie, is your name short for anything?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because I was thinking that your name should be 'Melan-_choly_!'" Doofenshmirtz proceeded to fall onto the floor, and nearly choke to death from laughter. Melanie was far from amused.

"Really?" Doof asked her. "You, you're just gonna stand there like a dead fish?"

A loud crashing noise could be heard from somewhere else in Doof's building.

"Hold that thought, Melancholy, I've gotta go check on something." The evil scientist stood up and left the room, still holding a wrench. "Alright, which angry miserable servant of mine is trying to murder me now?" Doof walked into the room where the noise was located, and stopped. There was a giant hole in the wall, but no one in sight, not even any Normbots. _I really got to make those things more efficient_, Doofenshmirtz thought as he looked around the seemingly empty room. Looks, though, can be quite deceiving. Doof had not even been standing there for a minute when a suave, semi-aquatic personification of unstoppable dynamic fury had slammed into Doof's chest and had brought him to the floor. Doof waved his wrench around in the air frantically, heard a grunting noise, and sat up. The evil scientist scanned the area around him, and saw a strange animal standing not 6 feet away from him. The animal was wearing a brown hat, and it was standing on its hind legs.

"What are you?" Doof asked incredulously. "A beaver-duck?"

The animal facepalmed. "Gyururururururu."

Doofenshmirtz looked confused. "What's that even supposed to mean? It sounds like a mix between chattering and growling. And why are you wearing a hat? Aren't fedoras only worn by. . .secret. . .agents. . . .?" Doof trailed off. The mammal nodded vigorously. Doof stood up, ran to the animal, and hugged it. "I HAVE A NEMESIS!" Doof nearly screamed. The platypus tried to free himself. Doofenshmirtz almost immediately dropped him. "I. . .I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "Uh, now. What are you, exactly?" The mammal took off his hat, pulled a piece of paper out of it, and handed it to the evil scientist with a flourish.

"Congratulations, Doctor Doofenshmirtz," Dr. D read. "If you are reading this pamphlet, then that means that you have reached a high enough position on our 'threat status'. You have been assigned a nemesis: Perry the Platypus, aka Agent P. Please see back of pamphlet for more details." Doof threw it aside. "Well, read enough of that." Doofenshmirtz looked around the room. The platypus (what was his name?) had left. Doof went searching, heard an explosion, and ran out to his balcony. He got there just in time to see his invention explode, and the platypus (wait for it. . .Perry! That was his name!) jump off the balcony and fly away. Doof stood there a moment, and then screamed at the top of his lungs:

"Curse yooooooouuuu, Agent P! No, no. That won't do at all. Wait a minute. . .

Curse you, Perry the Platypus! Now, _that's_ what I wanted to hear. Has a much better ring to it." Doofenshmirtz turned around and walked past his machine. It was a pile of ashes now; he could fix it later.

"Well," Doof muttered to no one in particular. "You have proven yourself quite the adversary. In fact, I think I could get used to our friendly little battles, Perry the platypus. Unfortunately, since you have chosen to oppose me, I'll have to destroy you."


	10. Chapter 9: RESATID

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Hey, everybody! I know it's been a while, but I was working on a short challenge story for a Phineas and Ferb Fanon Wiki. But that's out of my way, so, without further ado. . .**

**Rodney-2: What about meeeeeee?**

**P.t.S.****: Really, Rodney? I was in the middle of saying something.**

**Orville-2: DON'T TALK TO MY FATHER LIKE THAT!**

**P.t.S.****: Don't make me send Nighttress after you.**

**Orville and Rodney: (mortal terror)**

**(Third Person)**

As one has probably already guessed, Perry and Candace are having a little chit-chat, and will eventually strike up on a sort of deal. Doofenshmirtz is beginning to assemble a machine that will ultimately change the entire situation of Danville. And if that wasn't bad enough, Doof was also bent on finding out his nemesis's location, and family, if he had one. But we will take this moment to turn and see what Rodney and the other members of L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. were doing at the old abandoned Old Abandoned Amusement Park*.

At first, the scientists called themselves T.O.M.L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N.N.I.D. (The Original Members of League Of Villainous Evildoers Manically United For Frightening Investments in Naughtiness Not Including Doofenshmirtz), but the whole "Love Muffin" part didn't seem to fit. So they turned to their leader, who was Rodney, to think up another name for them. After much thought, Rodney came up the name "Rebellion of Evil Scientists Against That Idiot Doofenshmirtz, or for short, RESATID. They had been gathering at the amusement park daily for several days, and no one had come up with anything to defeat Doofenshmirtz with. Rodney was sitting in his room in his house, thinking hard.

_Those other scientists are so useless,_ Rodney thought despondently. _I mean, really, how hard is it to have a group of evil people make up the most horrible and effective way to destroy a double-ganger?_ Rodney's thoughts were interrupted by his bedroom door breaking down, and a small, somewhat rounded figure entering the room. It was secret Agent P, or, for clarification, Peter the Panda. Peter was Rodney's nemesis, and he looked annoyed right now because he had come over every day like he was told, and Rodney hadn't been doing anything evil. Rodney sighed and stood up. Peter knew what was coming.

"I'm afraid that I haven't done anything evil today," Rodney said. "I was thinking about Doof, our _wonderful mayor._" Peter nodded. He knew how Rodney felt about Doof. Rodney was looking at Peter. He was a good fighter (despite his chubbiness), a master at stealth, and he didn't make any annoying sounds. As Rodney gazed upon his enemy, an idea sprang to mind.

_Why build a weapon from scratch,_ Rodney mused;_ when can use the effective things already around you?_ Rodney walked over to Peter.

"You know," Rodney said casually, "I just remembered: I _did_ have a sort of evil plan for today. Nothing much, of course, I haven't really worked out all the kinks. I you'll just follow me, this won't take too long, I hope." Rodney walked out of the room, followed shortly by Peter. When Peter reached the hallway, there was no evil scientist in sight.

_Now where is he?_ Peter thought. Rodney stepped into the hallway **behind** the panda. The scientist held up a small blaster, he changed the settings to "stun". Then, he fired. Peter didn't have time to react. One second, he heard the sound of a gun being fired from behind him, next, searing pain ran through the panda and he fell to the floor, unconscious. Rodney walked over to Peter, made sure that he was out, and then called his son.

"Orville!" he called. Orville was at his father's side in seconds.

"Yes, father?"

"How do you think this panda could help us with our plans?"

"He wouldn't help us at all, unless you found some way to make him completely loyal to you, and you alone." Rodney thought a moment. How could you force someone to be loyal? I mean, it seemed that the best thing to do would be. . .

"We could take away his free will," Orville suggested. Rodney turned and looked at his son.

"How?" he asked.

"I read a whole lot of sci-fi and speculative fiction," Orville explained, "and there is a way to make someone, or some**thing**, someone else's mindless slave. And I'm certain that we can do what they do to make it happen. We could. . ."

"You mean. . .?"

"Yes, yes I do, father." Rodney looked at his son, looked at the panda, thought a moment. Then he smiled, and began to laugh. A laugh of pure evil joy.

"Son, I'm going to nominate you to be part of RESATID at our next meeting."

"Thank you, Dad. I'd be honored."

Rodney looked down at the panda. I would have never occurred to Doof to do what Rodney was about to. I mean, Heinz had needed help just thinking up Dooferalls. Rodney laughed again.

"Come on, son. We have a few loose screws that need tightening."

**Yea, the part about the old abandoned Old Abandoned Amusement Park; I had called it a Theme Park in my last chapter. My bad. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience. **


	11. Chapter 10: Secretlyimverylonely

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** On with the story!**

**Phineas-2: What's next?**

**P.t.S.****: Now, Rodney's gonna try hacking into Doof's security system, just to make sure that Doof isn't getting any bright ideas.**

**Phineas-2: O….kaaaaaaayyyyy. . .**

**Ferb-2: (moment of silence) What's next?**

**P.t.S.****: (moan) Just read.**

**(Orville-2's POV)**

I looked around the room I was in. I knew that I was extremely lucky, in this situation, anyway. I listened closely for the sound of approaching footsteps before seating myself before a laptop. _Doofenshmirtz's laptop._ Now, I wouldn't ordinarily be in someone. . .else's. . .house, but this was an emergency. My Dad, the great Rodney (even I didn't like calling him by his full name), had wanted to be extra sure that Doof didn't have the same ideas in mind about _his own_ nemesis. I had modestly volunteered to be the one to sneak into Doof's weirdly-shaped house (it would be a riot if I ever found someone with a head similar to that house in any way), try to gain access into his computer, and hack into his "-inators" page to see if had ever thought about the same devious plans that had Dad had now (thanks to me).

I opened up the laptop, and the screen turned from black to blue.

"Enter password," said an automated voice, coming from the computer. For a moment I was completely caught off-guard, and the computer's voice sounded terribly loud compared to the relative quiet of the rest of this enormous building. I tensed myself and listened with baited breath for someone (preferably Doof) to barge in and shoot me on the spot. I didn't doubt that Doof would do such a thing. When the hallway remained empty, though, I relaxed a bit, then turned my attention back to the computer screen. I sat for a moment, letting my incredibly smart brain begin working.

"He's a true evil genius!" my Dad, Rodney, had once told Doof on Skype. I typed in a bunch of letters and numbers.

"Password denied," came the mechanized voice. The screen turned red. I sat a moment in thought, and then tried again.

"Password denied." I groaned. I typed in something else.

"Password denied. If you fail to log in a final time, an automated alarm will be set off." Brilliant. I thought a long, long moment before finally taking my chances and writing:

Secretlyimverylonely

"Access granted." I sighed with relief, and began to click on several of the Word Documents. I then went into "search", and typed "recent inators". A long list of inventions popped up on the screen. I searched frantically for the one I was looking for, since I was aware that, at any moment, someone could just waltz in and see me here. I clicked and searched, but didn't find what I feared to find. I sighed with relief, again. Then another thought ran through my mind.

_What if he has something about it in his email?_ I wondered. Not wasting any time, I hurriedly went into Yahoo! Mail, and typed in the laptop's access code into the "log in" page.

Secretlyimverylonely

It didn't work. I sat back and stared at the computer, waiting for an inspiration. I closed my eyes, and started to press buttons randomly.

Graduationhat. . . .Wait. How did _**that**_ come up? Fortunately, it was Doof's login username. "Doofalicious" was his password. Weird. I searched under "received messages". I didn't see anything there, so I went under "deleted messages". One of them caught my eye. It was a message concerning the parts to. . . . . . . . . . . .

A cyborg-making machine.

I felt a little nervous at this. At first I was afraid that it would be some sort of receipt, but it turned out to be a message about "failed shipping attempt". I sighed at that, but tensed when I saw a link in the email that lead to the cyborg-making machine's blueprint. I copied the link, then composed a message from Doof's e-mail address to my father's address. I titled the message "urgent", then sent it. I logged out of Yahoo! Mail, and realized that I was sweaty. I had done a very risky thing. What if Doof noticed the message in his "sent" files? I didn't want to think about that.

I went to the window, and looked out. There was no one, and no Normbot, in sight. I swung myself out of the window, and with some extra large, super strong suction cups that I had rigged up before heading to Doof's house, I began my decent quickly and quietly. I cast an anxious glance upward several times, but no one had noticed my excursion.

Well, now Dad and I would have the blueprints that we needed. My stomach flip-flopped as my fleeting feeling of pride became intermixed and replaced by one of mortal terror.

**Author's note:**

**The whole "graduation hat" thingy is based off of an event that happened to my brother (I was there to take part in it, luckily) in real life. ^ **


	12. Chapter 11: Whenever You Smile

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** I think I'm gonna do this intro thingy for all of my stories. It's sort of grown on me now.**

**Kayla: . . . .**_**Grown**_** on you. . . ?**

**P.t.S.:**** No one even knows who you are, Kayla! And you're not in this story! Wait. . . . . .**

**(moment of silence)**

**P.t.S:**** Fine. Maybe you are going to be in this story, but only for, like, one chapter or something like that. And that hasn't happened yet. So, go order a pizza, or something. **_**With your own money.**_

**Kayla: . . .**

**(Candace-2's POV)**

I wiped the perspiration from my forehead and readied myself for another attack. I had to admit, Perry was a good fighter. For the past week or so, I'd been sneaking out here to his lair to learn the ways of Platypus-itzu, whatever that was, and other fighting moves. I had been inspired to make some sort of rebellion group to oppose Mayor Doofenshmirtz. Right now, I was incorporating the inspiration into real life. I wasn't easy, but I didn't want easy. I wanted possible.

My train of thought was interrupted by our pet platypus lunging at me. I dodged, barely. On the day when I discovered Perry's lair, he had been more than a bit surprised at me suddenly being in his top-secret platypus hiding place. It had taken a while of arguing, pleading, threatening, ect. to finally strike upon a deal. The deal was that I would never tell anyone, not even Phineas and/or Ferb, about Perry's hidden life as a secret agent, and Perry wouldn't tell anyone about me finding out his secret identity. After the deal had been cleared out of the way, I then proposed that Perry train me. At first, Perry wouldn't, unless I told him why I wanted to learn how to fight really well. And when I did tell him my goal of forming an efficient and effective rebellion team thing, he still didn't agree, perhaps out of worry for me and the other people that I would try to drag into the resistance club. It took me a while, but of course, if I hadn't convinced Perry to train me, then I would probably still be inside my house at this very moment, thinking about Stacy. And Stacy was someone that I didn't exactly _want_ to think about, not now, anyway.

I looked around Agent P's lair for a suitable weapon. There was a pile of metal parts in one corner of the large, domed room, and I ran over to investigate. Perry waited patiently for me as I routed around in the metal. I threw many pieces aside; some were too long, too short, too heavy and awkward, too thin, too fat, it seemed like I would never find the perfect weapon. But I wasn't someone to give up. I kept searching, and near the bottom of the pile, I found what I was looking for.

It was a metal pole. Thin enough for me to easily wrap my hand around it, yet strong. It was also flexible, but it didn't show any possibilities of snapping or rusting. I ran my hand down the side and smiled. It was perfect.

"Hey, Perry," I said, turning around and holding the metal rod high. "Quake in terror and behold, my weapon of choice!" I ran at Perry swinging my pole around as if it were a baton. I didn't know how to properly use it yet, though, because just before I reached him, Agent P stepped out of my way, easily avoided my swinging stick, and I crashed into the wall. Perry snickered, and then laughed out loud. I tried to frown at him, but soon I was laughing right along with him. We trained for about two more hours, most of that time being spent on me learning the correct ways to hold my new weapon when I got into different fighting stances. When the two of us finally left Perry's lair, we were sweaty and happy. There were only a few things that could make me smile, or feel really happy, anymore. And spending some good old quality time with my favorite household pet was near the top of that list.

And yet, something happened that day. Something that I take the blame for. Perhaps if I had been more on guard; maybe, if it could have only crossed my mind that Doof might do something like that; if I hadn't been so stupid as to just stand out there in the open with Perry, then, just maybe, no, almost definitely, none of what happened next would have happened.

But I wasn't on guard. It didn't cross my mind that Doofenshmirtz might set up some sort of spying system in order to track down his nemesis. I _was_ stupid enough to stand out in the open, _in our backyard,_ laughing with a platypus. So neither of us saw the top-class security cameras all over the telephone poles and numerous other locations. And as we walked inside, neither of us noticed that several of these cameras were on our street, and almost all of them were pointed straight at my house and backyard. And little did I know that this was going to be the last time I saw my beloved pet in this manner for a while, and the last smile I would be able to muster a smile for years.


	13. This is IT, people! or is it ?

_**This is it, people. This is the part of the story,**_

_**When everything will be rocked completely**_

_**Out**_

_**Of**_

_**Balance.**_

_**What could've been different,**_

_**They had all the lines rehearsed;**_

_**But something's about to happen**_

_**That will put **_

_**Everything**_

_**In**_

_**Reverse.**_

_**This is the part that I've been bugged about**_

_**(No offense's been taken)**_

_**Ever since I started this story**_

_**Now, and I'm**_

_**Certainly**_

_**Not**_

_**Fakin'.**_

_**It's mostly been Shadowayn**_

_**(I'm surprised it wasn't more);**_

_**But now I shall begin the chapter**_

_**That you've all**_

_**Been**_

_**Waiting**_

_**For.**_

_**. . .**_

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes: ****I made that all up. . .just now.**

**. . .**

**I'm awesome.**

**Now, to go and type up Chapter 12. . . .**

**Tomorrow!**

**(Runs off laughing evilly)**

**(Hopefully, I can start it tonight)**

**Thanks for waiting, everybody!**

**You're patience has been appreciated,**

**And your calls are very important**

**And are being addressed in the order received!**


	14. Chapter 12: Nothing but a Hindrance

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes: ****Hey, everybody! I know I said that this next chapter was IT, but I felt like this needed to be put in here. It's what's going on right before Perry comes into Doof's house, up until our little platypus breaks into the scientist's wall. Don't worry, though. Chapter 13 is being worked on, and will be completed as soon as the author can get to it. Just one more chapter, folks! Then, and I promise you this, comes IT.**

**In the meantime, though. . .**

**Enjoy! **

**(Third Person POV)**

Doof was sitting in the chair of his recently imported desk. He looked around the room he was in; it was getting crowed because of all the inventing stuff lying around.

_I should really make my house bigger,_ Doofenshmirtz mused. But his mind was soon elsewhere. He was waiting, rather impatiently, for Melancholy, oh wait, it was Melanie. No matter. Anywho, Doof was waiting for her to bring him a sheet of paper. Just one, but one that was about to change the future of the Tri-State Area forever. The evil scientist perked up at the sound of tapping. Melanie's high-heels. Doof could not remember being so happy to hear them before. Melanie opened the door, and handed him a sheet of paper. Doofenshmirtz plucked it from her hand, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"What did you even need that for?" Melanie asked him; a little curiously.

"You'll know soon enough," was all the Doof replied. He looked up, and saw that Melanie was still there. "You're dismissed, Melancholy" the evil scientist said, waving her off. Melanie turned and left in a huff, unaware as to what Doof really meant when he said, "you're dismissed". Doofenshmirtz looked around the empty room, and his thought strayed to that secret agent beaver-duck thing.

"You think you're _so_ heroic, you little goody-two-shoes, you," Doof muttered. "To be perfectly frank, I've sort of enjoyed our daily skirmishes. Do I have to do this. . .?" Doofenshmirtz sighed. How could you destroy someone that you admired, even in a grudging kind of way?

"Remember, Doof," the scientist told himself, "this revolting agent is keeping you from your goal. He's made it harder for you to do vengeance upon Choo-choo. Yes, Doof; remember Choo-choo! Perry _obviously doesn't care about Choo-choo_, not matter how often you repeat that back-story. He's nothing but a hindrance, an obstacle that must be removed, at all costs." As Doof processed these thoughts, he felt something within him stir. It was the exact same feeling that he had felt, not too long ago, when he had made an end to his brother. It was a feeling of pure evil.

Doof jumped when a sudden crashing from another room signified the arrival of his nemesis. Doof stood up, and with the feeling of evil and hate gripping him tightly, started for the room where Perry was.

_He's nothing but a hindrance, an obstacle the must be removed at all costs._


	15. Chapter 13: Choice: Dead or Destroyed

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** This is IT, people. This is the part of the story that I personally think that **_**really**_** caused the 2****nd**** Dimension to change. I mean, if Perry had stayed a platypus, he would have continued fighting Doof. Doofenshmirtz would have been defeated every day, and wouldn't have had much of a chance to do anything **_**seriously evil.**_** And if Doofenshmirtz had been defeated every day, then what would be the use of all the Resistance groups that will be popping up in the course of this story? **

**You, the reader, can decide for yourself which part of this story is the most important. Maybe it's Doof becoming evil. Maybe for you, it's when Candace decides to start a Resistance. For me, the author, the most important part is what's coming in this chapter, because if this had never happened, then nothing else would've.**

_**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THE DEATH (sort of metaphorically) OF A DEARLY BELOVED CHARACTER. IF YOU DON'T THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THIS CHAPTER, AND WHAT'S COMING NEXT, THEN DON'T READ.**_

_**I REPEAT: THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN CHARACTER DEATH, AND PERHAPS SOME INJURIES.**_

**(Third Person POV)**

Perry looked around the empty room. He stood amidst the rubble, shook himself off, and then once again scanned the area around him. It was as empty as one of Doofenshmirtz's traps after Perry had escaped from it. That in itself was strange and out of place. Doof was usually lurking around in the corner or somewhere in the shadows.

Doof stood behind the platypus. He reached into his coat pocket, and took out a remote control. He aimed it at Perry.

Agent P felt a searing pain start at his shoulder and rush down his arm. Clutching his arm, Perry wheeled around, and saw Doofenshmirtz leering at him. There was something different about Perry's nemesis. It wasn't his outfit; he didn't have a new haircut; his physical appearance seemed the same. But it wasn't. Perry hadn't been Doof's nemesis for very long, but he had never, in that short time, seen this man like _this._ It was Doofenshmirtz's countenance that had changed. The look that he was giving the little platypus was one of utter and complete evil and cruelty. He looked like he wanted to kill Perry. Perry took a step back, still holding his injured arm, now feeling unsure. Doof continued to glare at him, and then he raised the remote control and aimed it again at Perry. Perry dodged the laser that came from the remote just in time. Flipping, jumping, swerving, ducking; Agent P managed to evade many of the laser bullets. A few grazed him, and these grazed spots began to bleed. Not much, but Perry nearly freaked out when he saw himself covered in blood.

"You won't get away this time, you freak!" the evil mayor screamed, firing in random directions. His voice had changed as well. Not that it wasn't raspy anymore, but it contained malice and rage. In fact, Doof was almost close to tears; but they weren't tears of sorrow. He couldn't hit him. No matter how hard Doof was trying; no matter how much energy he had; all that energy was going to be put to waste if Doof couldn't even hit a small mammal with a laser gun.

The room that Perry and Doof fought in (it was the room at the top floor, with the balcony shaped like Ferb's nose) was pretty much a wreck. Parts of the wall and ceiling had been shot and had fallen to the ground with loud crashings. Some of Doofenshmirtz's older inventions that had been sitting, rather inconveniently, in the room were destroyed. One of the falling pieces of ceiling cracked, split, and a large chunk fell onto Perry's tail, trapping him. As Agent P struggled, Doof, who had been standing on the other side of the room, panting, saw the platypus's plight. With an evil grin, Doofenshmirtz raised the remote, and pushed the fire button.

**. . .**

"Click."

Doof stared at the remote. _OUT OF BATTERIES?_ thought the evil scientist. Then he voiced his thoughts out-loud.

"_**OUT OF BATTERIES?"**_

Perry heard that. Taking advantage of his nemesis being distracted, he yanked his tail out; took a few seconds to gather his strength; and lunged at the scientist. Doof was slammed into the wall. Perry landed in front of him, chattering angrily. Doof looked around the room. There, sitting (rather conveniently) on the other side of the room, in a corner, _not _destroyed (don't ask me how it wasn't), was the Normbot-controlling-dish. Activating it would be a simple matter. Getting past the enraged platypus was the difficult matter. Perry tail-wacked Doof, hard; and the scientist actually passed out for a few seconds. When everything came back into focus, Doofenshmirtz saw that he had been tied up. . .in his own black coat. Perry stood there and looked at Doof, who glared back. When it became apparent to Perry the platypus that Doofenshmirtz was _not_ going to say "curse you Perry the platypus", Agent P turned on his heel, and started for the balcony; wondering how on earth he was going to explain to Phineas, Ferb, and their parents about his wounds. It didn't matter what he told Candace, because she knew his secret. Telling the others, though, without even talking, was going to be a problem.

Doofenshmirtz watched him leave. There was one more thing, though, that Doof had to try; and that thing was a piece of information that had been on that very important piece of paper. There was a slim chance of this information being accurate or true, but it was all that Doof had now to defeat his nemesis once and for all. _Remember Choo-choo,_ he thought. Straightening up as best he could, Doof opened his mouth, and said a word. One word. But words are powerful things; and this one word was about to change the possible course of the future.

"Flynn."

Perry froze. His back was turned, so Doof couldn't see his face. The scientist waited in anticipation. Either the platypus knew that name, or he didn't know it. If he did know it, then score for Doof. If he didn't, then it was back to square one. To make sure that Perry had heard him correctly (and to add to the trauma of it all), Doof repeated the word; this time, adding an ending.

"Flynn-Fletcher."

Perry turned on Doof, his eyes aflame. He marched over to the evil scientist, who smiled back at him.

_How did you know?_ Perry thought, barely able to restrain himself from beating this man right then and there.

"If you're wondering how I know where you're owners live," Doof spat, "then you could try my left coat pocket." Perry stepped forward, reached into the pocket, and rummaged around. He came up with the sheet of paper; it was a picture taken by one the security cameras on the street that Perry's owners lived on. It was a picture of Candace and Perry going inside, and Perry was walking on his hind legs in the picture. Under to photo was written "Flynn-Fletcher Residence". Doof looked at Perry, whose face had lost a bit of its teal.

"You won't believe how long I was on MapQuest, trying to find the location of that house," Doof chatted. "And now that I know where your owners live, I can get revenge on you. If I can't hurt you directly, I'll devastate you indirectly through someone, four some ones, to be exact."

Perry's face went pallid. He stood there, holding the picture, shaking. He turned to Doof, and in his eyes was a mixture of anger and fear.

"Untie me," Doof commanded. Perry hesitated, looked at the picture, and then untied Doofenshmirtz, which was incredibly stupid of Perry. Doof ran over his Normbot-controlling device, and pushed down on a big red button.

"It's turning on," Doof explained, rubbing his hands in anticipation. He then spoke into a small microphone that was attached to the invention.

"Attention, Normbots!" the scientist exclaimed. "This is urgent! I need 50 of you rustbuckets rounded up to head to a house of imposters. Their location is. . ." Doof stopped talking, turned, and looked at Perry. Doof's face lighted up as he "suddenly" seemed to "change his mind".

"Hold that thought, Normbots." Doof said into the microphone. He turned his attention to the platypus.

"Perry the platypus," The scientist began, "I realize that you love your owners very much. Heck, one of them even knows your secret! There is a way, now that I think about it, that both you _and_ your owners can come out of this scrape unharmed, and relatively unaffected. I'm going to propose to you a little deal," continued Doof. "And if you really care for your owners, if you're really as smart as everyone else lets on about, then perhaps you will choose the right and best choice." Doof rubbed his hands together and smirked heartlessly at the platypus. "Your choices are: 1) defeat me, destroy my invention for today, go back home like always, and in turn never see your precious owners ever again; or 2) turn yourself into me, give up your life as a secret agent, and all those you love will go unharmed. I give my solemn word for it." Doof raised his right hand, and, unaware to the secret agent, crossed his fingers behind his back.

Perry stood in absolute shock. He felt both hot and cold at once, and a terrible fear. Then, he felt anger. No, it wasn't anger; it was hate. Hatred for Doof. Hatred for this deal that he proposed. Hatred for his stupidity of standing around on his hinds legs and not thinking about the possibility of security cameras. Hatred for how unfair his nemesis was being. Perry felt a hot energy surge through him. He wanted to beat this man. He wanted to hit him with a piece of the broken wall. He wanted to maul him with a screwdriver. But even as these thoughts ran through Perry's head, he knew that he wouldn't, and that he couldn't. In an instant, it seemed as if all of that hot energy had left him, leaving the platypus feeling cold, lonely, deflated.

Doof walked back over to his machine, and got ready to push the big red button. He cast a sidelong glance at Perry. Agent P had removed his fedora, and was looking at it long. He was remembering what Monogram had told him, that day when Perry became Agent P.

"_Perry the platypus, you have agreed to all the terms, rules, and restrictions of being an agent in the Organization Without a Cool Acronym?"_

"_Gyurururururur."_

"_I'm going to take that as a yes."_

"_This is so exciting, Sir!"_

"_I know, Carl. But if you keep interrupting me, then we'll never get this done with! Now, where were we?"_

"_Gyurururur."_

"_Oh, that's right. Ahem. Perry the platypus, this hat was worn by your father, perhaps the best agent this organization has ever seen. You should be proud to wear it, and I'm certain that you dad would be proud, too. Remember, when you wear this hat, it is what defines you as Agent P. Not Agent R, not Agent M, or Agent E, or Agent J, or any of the other agent Ps. This hat is yours, and yours alone. Never give it to anyone else. Do you understand?_

"_Gyurururur."_

"_OK. Carl, give me the hat, please."_

"_Technically, Sir, it's a fedora; worn by people in the 1940's, as well as today. In fact. . ."_

"_Carl, you can give us the history of supercool agent hats later. The fedora, please."_

"_Of course, Sir." (hands him fedora)_

_(Monogram puts fedora on Perry's head. Salutes)_

"_Agent P, welcome to the agency."_

Perry looked at the hat. He considered his options. His choices were: either keep faithful to the agency and have his owners be **dead**, or turn himself into Doofenshmirtz, and no doubt be **destroyed.** Perry didn't need to think twice about his choice. It was executing the act that seemed so hard to do. Perry gazed at the fedora, and with tears coming into his eyes, set it on the ground in front of him, and stepped back. Doofenshmirtz smiled.

"See, Perry the platypus? That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Doofenshmirtz slammed down on the button. "Normbots!" he shouted. "I need, like, 15 of you up the main room, RIGHT NOW!" Doof turned and looked at Perry. "Come with me," he said. Perry hesitated, looking at his hat. Just them, several Normbots flew in.

"What do you wish, Sir?" asked the one in the lead. Doof pointed at the fedora in the floor.

"Get rid of that."

The Normbot pointed his hand at the fedora on the floor, and fired a red laser three times. Each time a laser was fired, Perry felt as if the bullet were striking _him._ When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the hat, save a black crater. Doof grabbed the platypus by the arm, and dragged him into another room. In the center of the room stood a large thing covered by a cloth. Doof pulled back the cloth, and underneath could be seen a complicated-looking device with wires and mechanical arms and all sorts of gadgets attached to it.

"Behold, Perry the platypus, my Cyborg-Transformer!" Doofenshmirtz said it loudly, and dramatic music could be heard. "I was going to use it on all the people of the Tri-State Area, to make them my mindless slaves," Doof explained, "but then they wouldn't be quite as miserable. And none of them know how to lead an army of killer robots. You're probably wondering what leading an army has to do with anything, but it has _everything _to do with it! As you probably know, my Normbots aren't the most. . .well. . .effective. And Melancholy stinks as a general." Perry looked confused. "Melanie," Doof sighed. "She just never smiles, and she's always so cranky. Anywho, so I need a good general. And I can't believe that I hadn't thought of you before."

Perry took a step back, suddenly realizing what Doof was going to do to him. Doof was going to make _him_ the mindless servant. Perry's eyes went wide in terror. He turned to flee, but found that he was surrounded by Normbots.

"Strap him down!" Doof commanded. Perry was soon strapped to a metal table; unable to move his legs, arms, or tail. Doofenshmirtz walked over to him, holding a vaccination of some sort.

"This is to put you to sleep," Doof explained, coming closer. "It might pinch, but that's nothing compared to what you would feel inside the machine in you were awake!" Perry could only watch, with perspiration and tears streaming down his fur, as Doof gave him the injection.

"Start it up!" Doof commanded. The conveyer belt that the table was on started forward. Already everything was growing hazy before the platypus's eyes. He struggled to keep them open, to remember everything of his past life.

_Remember, Perry. Don't forget. Remember Monogram, Carl, Pinky, Peter; remember all the agents._

_Remember Linda, Lawrence, Candace, remember. . . ._

_Phineas. . ._

_Ferb. . ._

_Candacccccccce. . ._

_. . ._

_Remem. . ._

_Phine. . ._

_Fer. . ._

_I, love. . .you._

_Rememmmmmmmmmmmm. . ._

Perry's eyelids closed, the injection overcame him. Then an electrical shock pulsed through him. For a moment, all Perry saw, felt, heard, smelled, knew, was pain.

Then all the lights went out.

**Author's Note:**

**2,605 words! Congratulations if you made it all the way to the Author's Note! Now go find some Kleenex. You know you need some. **


	16. Chapter 14: Age of Corruption

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Now, we continue! That last chapter was the most crucial part of the entire book! But of course, there are other important parts coming up, as well.**

**Phineas-2: Why wasn't I allowed to read the last chapter?**

**P.t.S.****: For. . . .rather obvious reasons.**

**Phineas-2: It's not fair! I don't even know what those "obvious" reasons are! Therefore, they're not obvious!**

**P.t.S.****: (sigh) Why me?**

**(Third Person POV)**

Doofenshmirtz had been waiting for a while now; listening to the sounds of mechanical joints and arms moving, an occasional buzzing of electricity, and the hissing of pressurized air being released from the machine. The evil scientist was standing at the rear end of his Cyborg-Transformer, and was waiting with impatient anticipation for the arrival of his new (and improved) general of his Normbot army.

"I can't wait!" squealed Doof, his voice going much higher than usual, due to his excitement.

There was a final loud _hisssssssssssssing_ of air being released, and the back part of the machine swung open. A dramatic cloud of smoke came pouring out of the Cyborg-Transformer, and Doof had to step back, coughing and wiping his eyes. Then, as the smoke cleared, the scientist stepped forward eagerly in order to get a good look at his creation.

Perry was still strapped to the metal table, but the table seemed smaller now. Maybe it was because Perry, due to the machine, had gotten somewhat larger. He was even taller than he had been before. But it wasn't the former agent's size that was making Doof's jaw drop in admiration of both Perry and of himself. He was looking at Perry.

If a person had never seen Perry up until this point, it probably would have been hard for that person to distinguish him as once an organic platypus. Now, there was hardly any platypus left of Perry to speak of. Perry's right leg, foot, and left leg were completely made of metal; only his left foot was a webbed foot. His body was a metal rectangle, with some sort of design on the front. Perry's arms seemed to have gotten longer in order to fit his new body; they were made out of black metal pieces that looked like tubes, with gray cylinder-shaped pieces after the tubes, and metal hands that could "vanish" into these cylinders, and come up again as a variety of tools and, most importantly, weapons. Another large piece of metal rose up behind his head covered most of Perry's neck. A sort of metal chest plate could be seen on the front of the once-platypus. Even the platypus's beaver-like tail had been modified; it too was now mostly made of metal, and it had a long, vicious-looking sharp spike on the end. The only thing, it seemed, that resembled what this creature had once been, was the head and face; but even these things had been changed. Two black wires, on either side of Perry's head, ran down and were covered the rest of Perry's metal body. And to crown it all, a black, shiny helmet had been firmly fixed onto the cyborg's head, where a brown, secret-agent hat should have been. Perry's chocolate-brown eyes* were still closed, as if he were asleep. His face though, did not express that smug feeling of victory that Doof was certain he saw in the platypus's eyes whenever he defeated the scientist. And it wasn't that mixed look of horror, rage, hatred, sorrow, and terrible, uncontrollable fear; it was a serious, determined look that he had whenever he was on a mission. But at the same time, it was an expression that Doof had never seen on this platypus before. It seemed to have an element of passiveness in it.

Doofenshmirtz walked around the once-platypus, gloating to himself for a job well-done.

"Well, Doof, I really must say," he muttered happily, examining his creation. "You've really outdone yourself this time. You are really a true evil genius!" Doofenshmirtz squealed, giggled, and hugged himself like a little girl who has just seen a Justin Beiber poster, or, even worse, Justin Beiber in person. Then he stopped, and got all serious again. He didn't want to take any chances on Perry becoming good again. One of the things that the Cyborg-Transformer had done to Perry was erase all memories of his past life. When the cyborg platypus woke up, the only things that he would remember were certain things like who Doof was, and all he would know was that Doof had created him, and that Perry was to be loyal to Doofenshmirtz and to Doofenshmirtz alone. But if there was anything that Perry still had (although Doof doubted it) that could possibly trigger some sort of past-life memory, then Doof had to find it, and destroy it; or at least get it out of the cyborg's sight forever.

Doof walked over to the cyborg, who was still unconscious, and proceeded to examine the cyborg closely, running his hand up and down all the sides of Perry, checking back and front; and all the sides. Finally, Doof reached down behind the chest plate, where it gaped a little, and searched with his hand. Doofenshmirtz's hand touched something small and metal. Weird.

_Well, he was a cyborg, so why shouldn't he have metal pieces hanging around his neck? Because a small metal object hanging around this cyborg's neck wasn't part of the design._

Doof grabbed hold of the metal object (it fit easily in his hand) and tugged. Something seemed to be holding it in place. Whatever was holding the metal in place, though, wasn't very strong. A few more tugs, and the thing suddenly came loose. Doofenshmirtz fell to the floor, nearly dropping what he was holding in his hand. He sat up, brushed himself off, and looked down.

The metal object that he was holding was in the shape of a duck foot

_Or a platypus foot,_ thought Doof. It had been held in place by a leather strap around Perry's neck for who knows how long. Doof turned it over, and then ran his fingers along the side. He felt something, pushed down on it. The small foot swung open to reveal a triptych; two boys, one with red hair and the other with green hair, were on both sides of the triptych. A chubby platypus picture was in the middle. Doof looked at this picture for a while.

_These must some of Perry's owners that I haven't seen yet, _Doof realized. He quickly pocketed the locket, and turned back to the cyborg, only to find staring straight at him. Doofenshmirtz stood, gazing at the cyborg, who stared back at him. Perry still had a serious, determined look, and yet, it seemed almost apathetic, as if were oblivious to his surroundings. He looked at Doof for a long time, and the scientist feared that his machine might have done something wrong of left something incomplete. The cyborg turned his attention to the metal straps that held him in place, and chattered in confusion and annoyance. Even his chattering noise had changed, becoming deeper and more robotic sounding.

"If you want out, cyborg," Doof said, trying to keep his voice from wavering, "You're going to have to free yourself."

The cyborg looked at Doof for a moment, and then once more examined the straps. He proceeded to tug and yank with all of his strength (which had been increased now that he was mostly metal) with his right arm. Doofenshmirtz watched with baited breath. The cyborg's attitude changed from one of annoyance to one of anger. Clenching his teeth, the cyborg pulled back with all his might, and with a groan, the strap came loose. Perry lifted up his arm, and looked at the other straps. His hand went into the gray cylinder, and came out as a buzz-saw. He brought his arm down viciously upon the restraint on his left arm, and made short work of it. In an instant, Perry had freed himself entirely from the straps. For good measure, the cyborg changed both of his metal hands into guns, and blasted the metal table to bits. He sort of destroyed the Cyborg-Transformer in the process, but the cyborg couldn't have cared less. Doof told him to get out himself, and that's what he was doing. When he was done, Perry's expression changed back to its passive seriousness. He turned and looked up at Doofenshmirtz, patiently awaiting the next command.

Doof was staring at the remains of his invention. But instead of feeling angry, like usual, he felt, _joy._ A horrible, elated, bitter joy; a feeling that he wanted to keep as much as he wanted to get rid of it. It was the joy of the triumph of evil over good, the ultimate defeat of something that was once noble, and having it be changed and rise as a hideous shadow of what it once was. Doof was filled with this feeling, and for a moment, didn't know what to do. Then, a smile spread over his face, and he started to laugh. Doof's laughter grew louder, echoing throughout the room. It was a laugh that contained hate, malice, and that terrifying joy. The cyborg looked at Doof, slightly confused.

"I have done it!" Doofenshmirtz cried, loudly, for the entire world to hear. "This is the end of it all! I have never felt so happy in my life! Perry the platypus is no more! Be prepared, Tri-State Area, to welcome the Age of Corruption!" And Doof continued to laugh, the only one, it seemed, who knew exactly what he was talking about.

**Perry the Platyborg doesn't have his robotic blue eye yet. He gets later, after an "accident". I didn't like this chapter as much as some of the others, but, enjoy anyway! Isn't Doof just heartless and evil and cruel?**


	17. Chapter 15: It makes a difference

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Sorry for the delay, folks! Our family moved (not that great a distance, thankfully), and I haven't had much time to get on the computer. Anywho, though, I can and will continue with my tale. Thanks for reviewing, everyone!**

**(Third-Person POV)**

Doofenshmirtz, after he had finally stopped laughing and managed to catch his breath, turned once again to his new general. Perry was looking up at him with a confused expression, as if he wondering whether or not he should have laughed, too. Doof sighed, wiped his eyes, and looked down at the cyborg.

"C'mon, general," Doofenshmirtz commanded. Perry followed quite willingly, not showing any signs of hesitation or resistance. The evil mayor walked along, feeling quite proud of himself, when a thought entered his mind that made him stop in his tracks.

_What is he's faking it?_ Doofenshmirtz tried to push this thought from his head, but it kept persisting. _Such a complicated machine that I've created. . .the smallest thing gone wrong; the tiniest piece in the wrong place, and the whole process (or at least a part of it) would be destroyed._

Doof turned. Crouched down, and gazed right into the cyborg's brown eyes. They stared back, showing some confusion, but also loyalty. Doof couldn't read any of his feelings or thoughts, whatever a robot thought. Doof stood up, and began to walk down the hallway again. Actually, he was more staggering. What if something _did_ go wrong with the invention? What if Perry became a cyborg, but kept his memories (or most of them) intact? If so, then Doof, with sudden realization, had made his own certain destruction. Perry had been hard enough to beat as an organic platypus, but now a robotic monotreme? Doofenshmirtz gulped as he thought of all the different weapons and tools that he installed into the platypus-cyborg. They were all potentially lethal in some way. Doof's mind reeled, as he tried to think of a way that he could have Perry prove his absolute loyalty to Doof, and to Doof alone. The scientist thought so hard that he began to have a headache. He slowed, and finally stopped moving altogether. Leaning against the wall next to a closed door, Doof tried to think. Perry waited patiently.

_I could think much better,_ Doofenshmirtz thought angrily, _if Melancholy would stop typing so loudly in there. I can hear her, even with the door closed! She's sooooo annoying; I should really get rid of. . . . ._

Doofenshmirtz straightened. A large smile spread across his face as he walked over to the closed door, and proceeded to bang on it as loudly as he possibly could. The typing inside halted, and an irate-sounding voice called

"What do you want, already?"

Doof opened the door, and showed himself in.

"What do you want?" Melanie repeated the question, still looking very angry. He was sick and tired of Doof pushing her around, calling her weird names that _did not_ fit her personality (or so she thought), intruding on her when she tried to work. How did this crazy mayor expect her to get anything done if he never left her alone? She looked at him, and Doof stood there doing nothing for what seemed like a long, long time. Melanie was about to go back to her work and ignore Doof (mayor or not), when he spoke.

"Hey, Melanie," he said. Melanie was so startled she could hardly speak. Did Doofenshmirtz just call her by _her actual name?_

"Yes?" she asked, but not so edgy this time.

"Your name, it's kinda pretty, now that I think about it." Doof paused, and looked dramatically into the distance for a moment before snapping back to reality. He smiled at her, and then shrugged his shoulders. "Huh. Well, anywho, too bad this is going to be one of the last times that you hear your actual name," his smile grew wider as he said the next part; "or _any name_, at that." Melanie raised an eyebrow. She knew that Doof was a nutcase. _Everyone_ _knew that the Mayor was a nutcase._

"Are you suggesting something?" Melanie questioned. Doof paused before answering.

"Yes, I suppose you could put it that way. . ."

"Is it something good (though I highly doubt it)?"

"I guess it depends on how you look at it."

. . .

"Well?" Melanie asked, growing angry and impatient again. "What is it? I have a lot of work to do, in case you haven't noticed, and I don't have all day to wait for you answer my questions or give me mysterious answers that don't even make any sense whatsoever!" Doof looked a little startled at the sudden outburst, but he quickly regained himself and spoke:

"I'm going to have you fired."

Melanie was, needless to say, a little taken aback.

"You're, you're going to fire me?" Doof shook his head.

"No."

"But, that's what I heard you distinctly say just now. It isn't April Fools, last time I checked."

"No, that's not what I said. I said 'I'm going to _have_ you fired'. That's what I said. You forgot a word."

"What's it to you or me that I forgot to include one word?" Doof smiled again, an evil, mysterious, joyful smile.

"Oh, Melanie. One word can make all the difference."

"I don't understand, and I'm sure if I want to understand. Have you been reading the _Inkheart_ series lately? Or do you need to go and get a doctor?"

"Neither. What I'm trying to say, Melanie, if you'll just bear with me, is that I'm not the one who's going to be firing you."

"You're my boss, though. If you aren't firing me, then who is?" Doof grinned again, and stepped to the side. Perry stood in the doorway, concealed from Melanie up until this point. He looked from Melanie to Doofenshmirtz, and back again. The evil mayor pointed at Perry.

"_He's_ going to fire you, Melanie. Or should I say, he's going to be firing _at_ you." Doofenshmirtz turned to the metal platypus.

"See that lady over there, cyborg?" Doof asked. Perry nodded "yes". Doof rubbed his hands together, and stepped out into the hallway. "You heard me; fire her." Perry nodded again, and moved forward. Doof watched with anticipation.

"Hey, Melanie!" he said. Melanie looked up at him with wide eyes; she had just registered in her mind what was going on, and what Doof wanted that, that, metal _thing_, this walking weapon, to do. She was frightened. Oh, so frightened. There was no time to act, though, and Doof continued talking as if they were both having a picnic at the beach.

"Melanie, you're annoying. I never liked you the first moment I set my eye on you. The only reason I kept you here was to do all of my paperwork for me, and in hopes that maybe you were more than you first seemed to be. I was only too wrong about that last thing." Doof paused, then continued; Perry waited for him to finish and give him a sign of some sort. "I hoped that perhaps you could lead my robot army, but you never even tried. You fell way below the standards of what and who I wanted you to be. And since you couldn't lead my army, I had to find something else that could." Doofenshmirtz pointed at the metal platypus before continuing. "Naturally, now that I have found my new (and much more effective) general, I won't need you anymore." Doof appeared to be done talking. He turned to leave, but Melanie called out to him.

"Wait!" she cried. "What about all that paperwork?" Doof shrugged.

"That's something that I'll have to think about when I get there," he said. "So long, Melancholy! I was _not _nice doing business with you!" Doof waved, smiled happily, and grabbed hold of the doorknob.

"Wait!" Melanie nearly screamed. She tried to get to the door; tears streamed down her face and blurred her vision. She banged into something hard. She looked down, and saw Perry. His blank, emotionless face was nearly more frightening than Doof's countenance; which was filled with anger, hatred, rage, evilness, ect.

Doof closed the door just before Melanie's groping hands could reach it. He kept it closed, holding onto the doorknob as Melanie tried desperately to turn it. Doofenshmirtz could hear a sound of mechanical joints whirring as Perry restrained Melanie and pulled her away from the door. Doof walk back the down the hallway, rubbing his hands together and thinking:

_I should really think of a name to call my new creation. I can't really call him Perry the platypus anymore, now can I?_

With these thoughts running through his mind, Doofenshmirtz practically forgot about his annoying ex-second-in-command. Just as he reached the door to his inventing room, Doof's train of thought was interrupted by a high-pitched, horrified-sounding scream, that was cut off suddenly at the sound of two guns being shot, hardly a second after the other. 


	18. Chapter 16: Troubling Thoughts

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Well, let's continue, shall we?**

**Candace-2: Why aren't **_**we**_** allowed to read those past chapters?**

**P.t.S.****: Believe me, Candace. You don't want to read those past chapters.**

**Phineas-2: (shudders)**

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Hey, NattyMc. I saw what you wrote about your friend and the crash; and if you ever feel the need to talk to someone about it, you can always PM me. Just no swearing, please! I pray for all of you every day.**

**(Candace-2's POV)**

I paced around Perry's lair for the 50th time that day.

_He should have been back by now,_ I thought. I had thought this so many times now that it was starting to get annoying. But I couldn't help myself. Perry had never arrived any later than 7:15 PM, and now it was almost 8:30. I was supposed to be in bed, but I had begged my parents to please let me stay up to watch for our little platypus. They agreed, of course, and here I am; watching and waiting for Perry to appear.

He told me (actually, he wrote to me) about his nemesis, the evil mayor Dr. Doofenshmirtz. Despite how evil he was (or appeared to be), Perry had assured me again and again that Dr. D. was actually not that harmful. Well, at least Perry got through their daily skirmishes with hardly a scratch. And I believed him. Perry was a _secret agent_, for cryin' out loud; and I guess that made me (foolishly) think that Perry must be immune to injury and possible death. I thought that perhaps he was invincible. Of course, these crazy ideas that I had about our pet only proved to show how naïve I was back then; how little I knew, and how much I still had to learn about the outside world. But I didn't know the things back then that I would learn later, the hard way. I swung my weapon around; that grey metal pole was an amazing tool/weapon. I had been practicing my poses, doing them how Perry had taught me. I turned once again to the small elevator, in hopes of seeing the monotreme stepping out of it. When there was nothing, though, I seated myself at his red, preschool-sized spinning chair, and fell to thinking.

_Why would he not come back?_ I thought._ Did he tell Major What's-his-name about me? Did he get relocated? _My mind reeled, as it filled with any horrible possibility that I could concoct. _Why is he late? Did he get hurt in the battle with Doof today? Killed? Was he worried that my ideas of a resistance were too dangerous? Is he not going to keep his end of the deal he made with me? He promised!_

I was still incredibly worried about Perry, but that worry and fear was mixing with yet another emotion; anger. What if Perry _wasn't_ going to keep his side of their deal? Was he just going to drop it all right then and there? And if so, then why?

_I'm not ready to fight on my own,_ I thought ruefully. _And I can't complete my training without him! How does he expect me to fend for myself if he's not going to help me?_

I stopped, took a long, deep breath. I couldn't get all worked up over this. These were just thoughts; mere possibilities. Pretty slim ones, at that. I forced myself to calm down; clearing my mind of all previous thoughts. Perry would never break a promise he made to anyone, especially if it was a family member. Perry was just being held up at work, that's all. Maybe that major dude had called him to the HQ to receive a special assignment. Maybe Perry was going to get a nomination. I smiled a little at that, and my spirit rose within me. I looked around, knowing that I should go inside to bed. Wouldn't want my parents to get mad at me.

I placed my weapon back where it had been before, on a small metal stand that Perry had constructed especially for my weapon. I looked around Perry's lair once more, making sure that everything was in its proper place, before going over to one of the entrances to Perry's lair. It was a bigger one; one that I could fit into more easily. I changed the suction of the tunnel to "reverse" so that way the tube would shoot me back up, not pull me down. In an instant I whizzed through the tunnel. The mirror in the Family Room lay before me at the end (or beginning) of the tunnel; but it moved as I came closer. I landed in the Family Room with hardly a sound. I went to the front door, opened it, closed it, and locked it, as if I had just come back inside.

"I'm home!" I called. My Mom answered me.

"Shh. The boys just got to sleep. And it's way past your own bedtime too, young lady."

"Yes Mom. Good-night, Mom."

"Good-night, sweetie. Any sign of Perry yet?"

"No, not yet. Maybe he'll be here tomorrow morning."

"Yes, that's probably what will happen. Anyway, there's no more time tonight to look for him, but I'm sure he'll turn up. He can't have gone far."

I started up the stairs to my bedroom.

_Of course he didn't go far,_ I thought to myself. _He's probably either at the OWCA HQ, or he's still back at Doof's place. Those two places aren't that far away._

With this thought in mind, I went to sleep and spent the night in relative peace. What I thought, though, was practically the opposite of reality. Perry the platypus had left. Far, far away he had gone, and he was never coming back. What waited on Doof at his house was not Perry. It never would be. Not now, not ever.

I said that I spent that night in relative peace. That wasn't necessarily true. Despite that fact that I thought of our platypus as this invincible being, I couldn't help to consider the possibility of him being hurt or wounded in some way. What had really made me think these things, however, was a noise that I'm not sure that many people heard; although I fail to see how anyone could have missed it. It was at the starting of supper, and I was up in my room. I was sitting by the open window, listening to the sounds of Mom cooking, Dad reading the paper, and Phineas and Ferb setting the table. As I sat, deep in thought, something startled me. That something was a sound. And that sound was the noise of a gun going off. I couldn't be too sure about the number of guns. It seemed like two, but the gun shots went off almost at the exact same time, so it was hard to tell. This frightening sound haunted me as I slept, and as my dreams became filled with images of Perry, wounded, helpless, at the complete mercy of our merciless mayor, I can say with much certainty that that night was spent in anything _but_ relative peace.


	19. Chapter 17: Keeper of the Info

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**Candace-2: What?**

**Phineas-2: Do we want to know?**

**Ferb-2: Why does Kayla have a pizza, and I don't?**

**Kayla-2: Why did you spend all of your allowance on candy bars, Ferb?**

**P.t.S.:**** You let Ferb. . . near SUGAR!**

**Kayla-2: Uh. . .yea?**

**P.t.S.****: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**(Third-Person POV)**

Monogram was seated at his computer, checking his email and thinking about the young. . . man (I guess?) that he had recently recruited. He wasn't an agent, of course; only animals were qualified to become secret agents. This person was in charge of the computers and other such technology in the OWCA. The recruit had managed to hook his computer up to every other computer and TV in the Tri-State Area, so that way he would be able to keep a look out for anything cool, or anything dangerous. That was the one problem with this guy: he was paranoid. He was always alert and on-guard; living in a constant fear of someone breaking into his house and/or doing something awful to him.

Anywho, with this guy in control of all the mainstream internet and television in the Tri-State Area, he was able to control which information did or didn't reach the eyes and ears of the people. That was actually how Monogram found out about this boy. He had hacked into the mainframe of the OWCA network, and was downloading information onto his own computer. Monogram had chatted with him, and the guy said that he would keep all the data that he had collected about the Organization Without a Cool Acronym secret, for a price. Monogram hated bribes and the like, but he had, of course, agreed in the end. It was crucial to the agency that everything about it should be kept absolutely secret.

Just then Monogram got a message. He opened it. It was from the technological genius. Monogram had seen him on Skype before, and he even looked like a nerdy geek. Monogram read the message.

"Monogram, Sir,

I believe that Doof is up to no good. I'm going to go check on it now. Just giving you a heads up.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket

PS That's not really Lemony Snicket.

PPS Sincerely,

Irving"

**Author's Note:**** Seriously, though, has anyone read **_**A Series of Unfortunate Events**_** by Lemony Snicket? Its awesome!**


	20. Chapter 18: Double Crosser?

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes: ****Good morning, fanon world!**

**Phineas-2: I still haven't seen the past chapters.**

**P.t.S.****: If you keep pestering me about reading chapters, I'm going to make you go back and read them all.**

**Phineas-2: Really?**

**P.t.S.:**** Ha, hahahahaha. . .no.**

**Phineas-2: Awwwwwwww. (downcast face) (puppy eyes)**

**P.t.S.:**** Don't you dare give me those eyes.**

**Phineas-2: (continues to do so)**

**(Third-Person POV)**

It was the morning after Melanie had. . .left her job. . .for good. Anyhoo, Doof sat down at his computer and pulled up his "inators" page. Well, at least, he tried to.

"Access denied."

"What do you mean, access denied?" Doofenshmirtz shouted at his computer. "You're _my_ computer, _my_ '-intators' page, and now I can't even pull you up?" Doof slammed his head down on the keyboard, and the page popped up. Doof looked up and smiled. When he tried clicking on different things, though, nothing happened. The evil scientist's face darkened once more, and he was just about ready to throw his computer up against the wall when something popped up on the screen.

"This is an automated message from: Anonymous" Doof sat back as the message played.

"Doofenshmirtz," said a voice. It sounded young. "You have probably noticed by now that your computer is having problems. Rest assured, I know what the problem is. I have hacked into your accounts and different pages, downloaded any interesting and/or useful information onto my computer, and then blocked you. I now have much of your information at my disposal, to give to whomever I want. I myself, however, have info on other things that might be able to help you. If you would like to do a little 'negotiating' with me, I have sent you an email with my address.

Sincerely,

Anonymous"

Doof stared at the computer. For a long moment, he could think of nothing. It was so sudden, that's all. Someone had actually broken into his computer and stole a whole bunch of information. What if the wrong person found out about Doof's projects? What if this anonymous guy knew about Doof's "secret weapon" that he had been working on? This guy wouldn't really give the information to Doof's enemies; would he? Rodney, the other members of L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N., or whatever they called themselves now, or to the president, or to the OWCA itself? This guy wouldn't, he couldn't. . . .

Doofenshmirtz sighed. He knew very well that this guy, whoever he was, would and could do what he threatened. And yet, he also mentioned that he had stuff that might help Doof. It didn't make sense; one minute, this guy was blackmailing him, next minute, he offers to assist Doof. Doofenshmirtz went into Yahoo! mail. He wasn't blocked there. He went into his account, clicked on his most recent email. He looked at the address listed in the message, and wrote it down. He scanned his other messages, then, without really knowing why he did so, went into "Sent Messages". There was a rather recent one addressed to Rodney. That was weird. He and Rodney hadn't talked to each other in weeks. Doof certainly hadn't been emailing him. Doof tried to click on it. But just as he did, an automated voice could be heard from his computer.

"This automated message will terminate. Virus from message will be implanted in device."

The computer whirred, and shook a little.

"Wait a minute," Doof said. "Did my computer just say 'virus'?"

At that moment, the screen went black. Doof desperately tried the buttons on his computer, pressing them all in random orders. When nothing happened, he proceeded to pick up his computer and throw it against a wall with a loud "CRASH". Platyborg came in as soon as the loud "CRASH" could be heard. He looked from the broken computer to Doof, who sat at his desk, rubbing his head in his hands. Platyborg walked over to Doof, and chattered. Doofenshmirtz looked up, looked down at the address written down on the sheet of paper in his hand.

"Cyborg," he said. The cyborg platypus stood at attention.

"You're in charge. I have to go and. . .run an errand." Doof stood up and left, leaving the cyborg to wonder what was going on, and why his master had thrown a computer against a wall.


	21. Chapter 19: Sing me a Song

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Blarsh-dee blarsh-dee blarsh-dee bla, bla, bla. I've been busy, so that's why I haven't been posting. I'd like to thank all those who are patiently waiting and don't pester me about the breaks in between my chapters. We now go to the suburban Danville. . . WHERE THINGS CONTINUE TO HAPPEN!**

**(Phineas-2's POV)**

We were sitting in the family room. By "we" I mean Ferb and I. Dad had been dragged off just that morning to go work in some factory that we didn't have a clue where its location was. He was supposed to work there for 6 days a week, and the day he was allowed to go home changed from week to week. Mom had been cleaning, and now she was in her room getting ready. Today, every family in the Tri-State Area was supposed to get a family picture taken, and we would continue to do so on this day in the upcoming years. Everything had changed so much.

I drew my legs up to my body and listened to the sound of Normbots flying past our house outside. I shivered, thinking about the fun that me and my brother used to have. What had started with building blocks now ended in ruins. With all these laws being made every day, it was hard to decipher whether or not what you were doing at that exact moment was illegal. Since it was hard, Ferb and I had begun to spend most of our time just sitting around doing nothing. Ferb had grown quiet; quieter than before, which means that he would go entire days without talking at all. Even I was changing. I remained optimistic, but not as much as before. I wasn't so loud-spoken, and didn't speak my mind very often. My everyday vocabulary was becoming less and less frequent; phrases like: "Hey Ferb, I know what we're going to do today!" were almost never heard. But most of all, we missed Perry.

I looked sidelong at my older brother, and knew that he too was thinking about our pet platypus.

_Where was he?_ Perry never stayed out late; he always came home for snacks, supper at the latest. He had disappeared the day before, and where was he now? He was going to be hungry, the poor guy. I wondered if Candace knew. She had changed in that short time; she would vanish mysteriously, like Perry, and return sometime during the day. She was more serious and determined, and didn't play with us as she used to.

_If only Perry were here,_ I thought forlornly. _He would help to make things OK._ As if on cue, a song entered my head. It was one that I'd never heard before, yet it came to me naturally, and opening my mouth, began to sing quietly.

_Perry. . . you know you are a boy's best friend;_

_You're more than just a passing trend,_

_You're like a treat from a candy store._

Ferb raised his head as I began singing, and now his British base took the second stanza, as if we had been practicing this song for a while now.

_Oh Perry, we love you more than ice-cream cakes,_

_We love you more than bugs and snakes,_

_We love you more than all things mentioned before._

I smiled a little as I started the next part.

P: _Perry, you're extraordinary,_

F: _Kinda short and hairy;_

P: _The color of a blueberry!_

P&F: _Yes, Perry!_

_So come home, Perry,_

_Come home, Perry_

_Come home!_

Candace sat in her room, thinking over the possible fate of her platypus. She had to find him; it was her fault for losing him, wasn't it? That's how she felt, anyway. Candace turned towards her partially-opened door, as the sweet sound of her two brothers singing came to her ears. What they were singing caused Candace's eyes to fill, and she joined in, her voice faltering at first, but waxing as she continued.

_Perry, those two boys need you so,_

_I think you already know,_

_Tell me, why did you go?_

_Oh Perry, You know we need you here,_

_A treasure we all hold dear,_

_We never needed you so much before._

Ferb and I had stopped at the chorus, unsure as what to say next. Then we heard a third voice, soft at first, but growing stronger and more sure-sounding. We looked at each other in amazement. The person singing was Candace! We snuck up the stairs and peeked in at her door. As Candace reached the ending of the second stanza, me and Ferb came in, and joined in.

P: _Perry, you're easy to carry,_

F: _Ya' know: it's really scary_

C: _Can't find you anywhere-y!_

P: Anywhere-y?

C: I ran out lines.

F: (blink, blink)

P: O. . .kay?

P&F&C: _Yes, Perry!_

_So come home, Perry,_

_Come home, Perry;_

_Come Home!_

_So come home Perry,_

_Come home, Perry;_

_Come home._

_Come home, Perry; come home!_

As the song ended, we looked at one another. I looked at Candace.

"Is Perry OK?" I asked. Candace turned to me. When she spoke, her voice was soft and shaky.

"I, I don't know little bro," she said, shaking her head. I fell quiet and looked at Candace's bedspread. Perry had slept on it sometimes; it was so soft and comfy. Before I knew what was happening, we were all crying. And by "we", I mean me, Ferb, and Candace.

**Author's Note:**

**Hey, I know that there are lots of people on fanfiction that also happen to be on DA. There are two people that I want on DA but I can't message them unless I join. I'm not joining DA because I'm already active on so many other sites, and for other, certain reasons; but I was wondering if anyone else would spare a little of their time to get my thanks to these two. If you don't have the time, then I understand. The two people I'd like to thank are: ****KicsterAsh****, for her amazing artwork. I'd also like to thank ****Savanahcat.**** She's the one who actually introduced me to fanfiction, although I don't think she knows it. And also for her great artwork, too. That's it for thanks, I think.**

**Oh, and thanks for all those who continue to read and review! I really owe you all a lot. Thanks again!**

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes**** is out. Peace! **


	22. Chapter 20: Give me your NERD WORD

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** On with the story! Thanks for the reviews! Only 7 more to go before I reach 100! YEA! GO ME!**

**Buford-2: . . .**

**Dr. Baljeet: I'm so in love with her right now.**

**Buford-2: . . .What?**

**Dr. Baljeet: (looks away) Nothing -/_-**

**P.t.S.****: I heard that. . .O.o**

**(Irving-2's POV)**

I sat in front of my computer. I sank deeper into my desk chair, and yet I was alert and ready to spring up and get the door. I was expecting Mr. High-and-Mighty and minute now, and I didn't want Mom or my older **bother** getting to the door first, and either screaming, fainting, attacking or killing him; or all of the above.

_What's keeping him?_ I thought grumpily to myself. _He should be here any minute now. My house isn't so far away. I don't have all day to wait for him, ya' know._ Technically, I did have pretty much all day to wait for the mayor. It wasn't like I was doing anything else. I just like to stay under the impression that I do more stuff than I actually accomplish. Of course, the rest of my family was completely in the dark about all that I did. I mean, would anyone try to explain to their Mom (or legal guardian) that they have successfully linked their computer to every TV and computer in a certain area, can control what information does or doesn't get through to the people living in that certain area, while one has all of this information lying around for their own disposal and can be worked towards one's own vested interests? Seriously. I mean, who would tell all of this to someone like their Mom, Dad, sibling, or legal guardian, and hope to get away with it? So in the end, I had two choices: 1 give up doing what I do best, which is technology, gathering data, and making easy dough, or 2 tell my Mom or older brother Albert what I was doing, and be confiscated from computers and the like for life. The choice that I went with, as anyone could easily see, was the first one. Speaking of Albert, though, here he comes now.

I pulled up another website and pretended to be on a completely innocent search for completely innocent information. My brother halted directly behind me, and I could feel his hatred for me cover the room in a suffocating curtain (alright, maybe I _was_ exaggerating a bit there).

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice dripping with disgust. I may look like a geek; my brother even _sounds_ like one. I turned to see my brother in his Dooferalls, his black glasses balanced on the end of his nose, his yellow-blond hair combed over and plastered to the side of his head. He glared at me from behind his spectacles, and I returned the gesture.

"I'm on a completely innocent search online for some completely harmless data," I explained, adjusting my own pink, circular, and more awesome glasses and turning back to the screen. Albert frowned in apparent disbelief and misgivings.

"I don't believe you," he scoffed.

_What are you trying to do,_ I thought with a small smile, _hurt my feelings?_ I decided to ignore my brother. He stood behind me, as if awaiting a counter-attack for what he just told me. When none came, he repeated his statement.

"I don't believe you."

"OK."

"What, you're not even going to try to prove it to me?"

"No, no I'm not."

"Oh, I see your problem. You're afraid that I'll see through your lies. And you are right, my friend, for I am known as. . . 'The Truth Detector'."

"No, you're actually known as 'The Hapless Geek-Nerd who can't get a Date to Save His Life'. And that's not why I'm not trying to prove whatever to you; I just don't feel like it."

There a pause in the conversation.

"You're no fun," Albert muttered underneath his breath. "And just when I was going to tell you my ingenious plan that I've been thinking of. But of course, you probably don't want to hear it, huh?"

"Nope." _I'm too cool for you losers,_ I added in my mind. Albert sulked and muttered a few more things under his breath which I didn't quite catch.

"You don't even want to see the outfit that I made for my plan?" I turned and faced my brother in disbelief.

"You made yourself and outfit for the occasion? What is your plan: a gigantic candy heist?"

"Oh ha, ha, ha. You're lucky I don't disown you as my brother and have you thrown out onto the street. But if you are indeed interested, I guess I can put my outfit on and show you." Albert was trying his best to appear and sound careless about the whole matter; but I could tell that he was excited about letting someone else (even me) onto his little creepy secret; whatever that was. He ran upstairs, and I heard a lot of banging around. When he came back, I nearly burst out laughing. He was still wearing his Dooferalls and glasses, but he was wearing some sort of cape. It looked to be a cheap imitation of Batman's cape and hood. Albert bounded into the room, got himself into what can pass as a sort of pose, and stood there for me to bask in his glow, while his cape blew out behind him dramatically. I reached over and turned off a table fan sitting on my desk. The cape stopped flapping. I looked him up and down.

"Alright," I said, taking off my glasses and beginning to clean them. "I give up. What are you supposed to be? The Dark Kite?" Albert looked disgusted.

"No," he replied, his voice full of annoyance, "I am the most feared thing of all evildoers. I am. . .THE CAPE!" He said the last part really loudly; I don't know why.

"Oooooo. . .kay? And who is this, "The Cape", exactly?"

"DUH. It's me!" I looked at him, annoyed.

"Really, Albert, what's with the getup?" Albert looked around, as if to make sure that no one was listening. He leaned forward and whispered to me.

"I'll tell you, but only if you promise not to tell a single person. Or animal," he added. I nodded silently, wondering if I could really take him seriously in that ridiculous outfit. Albert, though, did not seem satisfied.

"You must swear to me," he said in a low tone "on your Nerd Word." I gasped, and paled a little. If something is so serious that one must give your Nerd Word to it, then it was serious.

"Then I'll only have four more left," I murmured. (All nerds have 5 Nerd Words.)

"Whether you swear or not is not up to me," Albert stated. He straightened up, as if to leave. I quickly complied with my older brother's commands; curiosity got the better of me.

"Alright, I swear," I said quickly. Albert turned and bent over again. "What?" I asked breathlessly. Albert didn't say anything for a long time, and then he hissed into my ear,

"N.E.R.D. W.O.R.D." I glared at him.

"I already gave you my Nerd Word!" I protested loudly. Albert placed a finger on my lips, and shook his head.

"N-E-R-D-W-O-R-D: Nerds Energetically Resisting Doof and his Weird Or Revolting Demands. For short, N.E.R.D. W.O.R.D."

"Are you talking about, some sort of resisting group, that's resisting Doofenshmirtz?"

"Yes! Now be quiet! What if the wrong person heard you?" I started to crack up. Nerds (no offense to anyone out there) did not seem like an effective bunch to have around. Especially when it comes to taking down tyrants and the like. I began to giggle and chuckle until finally, it evolved into full-blown laughter. I fell off my desk chair and clutched my sides, heaving with laughter. I wiped the tears that sprang into my eyes, and rolled around on the floor, unable to stop.

"Nerds. . . nerds of all people. Of all the people you gathered, it had to be nerds. You did gather them, right, Albert? You're the one who thought up this whole thing? And you, you, "The Cape" are going to lead them all, I expect? The great crowned king of Nerddom?" I laughed some more. Albert looked angry a moment, then his countenance became cool.

"Yes, yes I do." I suppressed my laughter enough to look up at him and ask,

"Really?"

"Yep."

You're, you're not joking? This is a joke, right?"

"No, no it's not."

"But you can't expect to, I mean, a bunch of nerds couldn't possibly. . ."

"I don't care what you think. N.E.R.D. W.O.R.D. is _my_ organization, and it will only include the people that _I_ want to join. I was going to invite you, but now you can forget it. I'm going to go work on my ninja stealth and attack moves. Want to come?"

I had stopped laughing, and was seated in my desk chair, as if nothing had happened. I glanced at Albert from the corner of my eye. _Siblings are hard to understand_, I mused silently. _One minute they're weird geeks, next minute they've got a plan to destroy an evil mastermind._ I shook my head finally.

"No thanks." Albert grunted, then turned on his and left my room, calling out:

"Fine, see what I care! But don't blame me if people think I'm amazing and that you're not because I'm going to be highly trained in the ways of ninjas and you're not!" With that I heard the garage door slam, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

For about three seconds.

The doorbell rang. I jumped to get it, racing out of room and into the main room of the house. I stood in front of the door, suddenly uneasy. I was about to let in a dangerous, nefarious criminal; wanted for murder, stealing, and imposing dictatorship on a free area. He laughed in to face of evil, and took joy in suffering. My paranoid, mortal terror side was urging me to blockade the door, run into my bedroom, lock the door, and hide under the bed until Doof left. But the more practical side of me burst in on my panic and calmed me down. I had this whole situation under control. As long as I had information that he wanted, Doof was not going to touch me, let alone kill me. I took a deep breath, dusted off my Dooferalls, fixed my glasses, called to Mom who was somewhere in the house that I "Got it!", and turned the doorknob.

**Author's Note:**

**These two are going to be my comedy relief, I think. They're kinda like how Legolas and Gimli (from LoTR, which is also epically awesome) are together; they can be funny individually, but I think Albert and Irving do best when they're together. . .in a nice, annoyed, sibling sort of way.**


	23. Chapter 21: How Much are you Willing?

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Let's get on with this, shall we?**

**Candace-2: Where's Dr. Baljeet?**

**P.t.S.:**** (casually) In the closet. . .**

**Candace-2: Why?**

**P.t.S.:**** . . .with Nighttress. . . **

**Candace-2: WHO?**

**P.t.S.:**** . . .in outer space.**

**Candace-2: . . .**

**P.t.S.:**** Actually, Baljeet isn't in space. I made that part up. The rest is still true, though.**

**Candace-2: !**

**P.t.S.:**** (runs away screaming with Candace-2 hot on her heels) HEAD FOR THE HILLS! CANDACE IS ANGRY!**

**(Third-Person POV)**

Doofenshmirtz stopped in front of a white house with a reddish roof and a sign the said "Doof" over the front door. It was right then that Doof realized how much he detested all the bright and differentiating colors of the houses around him.

"I'll have to look into that," Doof muttered to himself. He looked at the house. It looked very much like the ones around it, with the exception of a large wooden sign out in the front yard. Doofenshmirtz stepped forward in order to read it.

**Stop! If you are considering entering this house, first read the instructions below and act accordingly:**

**No guns**

**No knives**

**No weapons of any sorts**

**No razors**

**No condiments or food substances**

**No hair dryers**

**Nothing that could act as something potentially lethal**

**No silverware**

**No Tupperware**

**Don't even **_**think**_** about coming in here if you're planning to hog my computer or hack into my system.**

**This is a "No Fire" zone. I repeat, you have now entered a "No Fire" zone. Please act accordingly.**

**Thank you.**

"This guy's not gonna much fun to hang out with," Doof muttered; "not if he's some sort of paranoid or something like that." He walked past the sign, up the front porch, and rang the doorbell. Doof listened as the sound of someone running out to the main room, stop in front of the door, and pause. Then someone, whose voice seemed remarkably like the one in the automated messages on Doof's computer, called "Got it!", and then there was another moment of quiet. The doorknob turned, and Doof was confronted by a short, rather large boy with pink glasses and his light brown hair in a buzz cut. He leaned on the doorpost, and examined Doof.

"Hello, mayor," the boy said in a voice that sounded bored and uninterested. "I'm the one who left the message. Would you care to come in?" The boy stepped back, thus allowing Doof to enter the house.

_He's in,_ Irving thought a little uncomfortably; _can't do anything about it now. _"Heinz Doofenshmirtz, I'm assuming?" he said out loud, trying to keep his cool. "Please come this way to my room." Irving started down the hall, followed by Doof.

"What's your name?" asked the evil scientist.

"I'm just 'anonymous' for right now," Irving said. "Once I've known you for a while, we can be on more. . .hospitable terms with each other." They had reached Irving's room by now. Irving shut and locked the door behind him.

"I don't want my pesky brother to be bothering us, Irving explained.

"Ugh! Don't get me started," Doof exclaimed.

"If he saw you," Irving continued, "he would probably flip."

"Well," Doof stated, "I came here for business. So let's get down to it, shall we?"

"Alright. How much are you giving me to insure the secretiveness of your secrets?"

Doofenshmirtz took out a bag of money and set it on the desk. Irving took off his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on. He opened the bag and took out some of the money. He checked it in order to make sure that it wasn't false, and then proceeded to count the entire bag. Doof became bored and somewhat annoyed.

"Can we hurry this part up a bit?" he asked. Irving shook his head, and continued counting until he knew the total of money in the whole bag. He dumped the moola back into the sack, then turned to Doof.

"Got any more?"

They spent between an hour and an hour-and-a-half bartering. Doof would name a price; Irving would raise the price; Doof would lower it again. This went on, both parties becoming angry at some points and raising there voices. Then they would remember that this was a secretive meeting, and they lowered their voices. They finally settled on a price: $704.14. Irving was satisfied, Doof looked angry and muttered. He hated it when other people did wrong to him. Irving counted out the correct amount twice, then pushed it into the sack and placed the sack underneath the desk. He kept an eye on it. As Irving began cleaning his glasses, Doof leaned forward and spoke.

"You said in your message that you some useful information for me. Information that might be able to help me. What information is it?" Irving replaced his glasses, and looked at Doof.

"How much are you willing to pay," Irving said finally to the evil mayor, "For the location to the OWCA Headquarters?"

**Anyone see this coming? No? Didn't think so. Oh yea, and the whole "condiments, food items, and hair dryers" are from NattyMC's stories. Your stories rock, Natty! Keep being awesome!**


	24. Chapter 22: Extreme Makeover

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Sorry for taking so long!**

**Candace-2: They'll never forgive you.**

**P.t.S.: ****Yes, they will.**

**Candace-2: No, they won't.**

**P.t.S.: ****Yes they will.**

**Candace-2: No they won't.**

**P.t.S.:**** Yes.**

**Candace-2: No.**

**P.t.S.: ****Yes, yes, yes!**

**Candace-2: NO!**

**I have an ANOUNCEMENT!**

**Just so all the readers are aware, I have all the ages of everyone in my story now.**

**They are, for right now, anyway, these ages (going from oldest to youngest):**

**Major Francis Monogram- unknown**

**Admiral Wanda Acronym- unknown**

**Rodney-45 years**

**Emperor Heinz Doofenshmirtz-43 years**

**Professor Poofenplotz- 42 years **

**All the parents of the random kids- unknown**

**Rodrigo- 15 years**

**Johnny- 14 years**

**Monty Monogram- 14 years**

**Albert-13 years**

**Coltrane- 13 years**

**Jeremy Johnson-13 years**

**Vanessa Doofenshmirtz-12 years (a few months older than Candace)**

**Lacey-12 years**

**Candace Flynn-12 years**

**Ferb Fletcher-8 years**

**Orville- 8 years in three months**

**Isabella Garcia-Shapiro-7 years (about a month or so older than Kayla) (Yes, Izzy's older than Phineas; you got a problem with that?) **

**Kayla Doofenshmirtz (an OC of mine)-7 ½ years**

**Buford Van Stom-7 years**

**The other Firestorm girls- ranging between the ages of 5 and 7**

**Phineas Vancewell Flynn-6 (almost 7) years (Yes, that's Phineas' middle name)**

**Irving-6 years**

**Baljeet Rai-5 years**

**General Perry the Platyborg- nearly 2 years in human years**

**Pinky the Chihuahua- about the same age as Perry **

**Ivy the Platypus (Another OC of mine)-1 ½ in human years**

**Suzie Johnson- just born**

**Other random peoples- random**

**I think that's everyone. . .oh wow, my poor brain. . .**

**(Third-Person POV)**

7-year-old Isabella Garcia-Shapiro cast one last anxious glance around her pink bedroom.

"Where _is_ that naughty Chihuahua?" murmured the black-haired girl. It was almost time for the bus, despite the fact that school was supposed to officially start a month from now. Isabella could not see the small brown dog, so she was forced to abandon her search and rush out of her room, grabbing up her Fireside girl outfit and sash. She ran out to the kitchen and hugged her Mom. Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro was just putting her daughter's lunch into a paper bag. Isabella noticed that her mom was wearing her Dooferalls like usual, but she was also wearing a gray cap and was lugging a load of paintbrushes around with her. Isabella looked at her mom curiously for a moment while eating her breakfast of plain toast.

"Wha'cha doin' today, Mom?" Izzy asked her mom. Mrs. Garcia Shapiro sighed.

"I'm going to help a whole bunch of people paint the buildings," she said. Isabella was puzzled at this; wondering if her Mom was kidding.

"_All_ the buildings?" she asked, wide-eyed. Her mother nodded. "But why? I mean, if someone wants their house painted, then why does _everyone_ have to go and paint it?" Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro sighed again.

"The mayor, Doofenshmirtz, doesn't like all the different bright colors that all the buildings are painted, so I'm going to go and help some others to paint all the buildings in Danville; the entire Tri-State Area, to be exact." Isabella stopped eating her toast.

_How and why on earth does the mayor expect everyone to paint all the buildings in the Tri-State Area? I always thought that all the colors were pretty._

"What color are they going to be painted?" Isabella asked, wondering, with little hope, if the color that the mayor chose might be pink. Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro thought for a moment.

"He commanded mostly black and purple, with touches of lime green, red, and splashes of hot pink," her mother answered the question. "Construction has been going on ever since Doof came to be the mayor, and some of the buildings have been torn down and rebuilt." Isabella wanted to hear more, but she heard the noise of the school bus coming down the street. Her mother handed Isabella her lunch bag and walked with her to the door.

"Why are all the buildings being torn down?" Isabella started to ask, but her mother cut her off.

"Not now, dearie. I'm going to be gone all day today, but I'll be home in enough time to eat supper with you. Now, it's time to go." Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro opened the door. Izzy held back a moment.

"What about Daddy?" she questioned anxiously. Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro paused.

"Mayor Doofenshmirtz has assigned him to help with a group of other scientists," she explained.

"Will he be back for dinner?"

"No, dear; but he'll be fine. I packed a supper for him, and he said he'd be back to spend Sunday with us."

"Is that the only day he'll be able to be with us?"

"I'm afraid so. Now, we won't worry about this anymore. It can't be undone. Now hurry or you'll miss the bus."

Isabella walked down the driveway as the bus stopped outside of her house. Looking back, she saw her mother waving at her from the window. Izzy waved back, but for once, she didn't feel like smiling.

_I hope Daddy will be OK. What if he's lonely? I'll try to be brave for him. He always was. . .is._

The bus doors swung open with a creek, and Isabella boarded the bus. The doors closed, and the bus rumbled off to the school.


	25. Chapter 23: Distressing Signal

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** More story writing!**

**Candace-2: They're still not gonna forgive you.**

**P.t.S.:**** You're not going to stop with that, are you?**

**Carl-2: I'm in this one, right?**

**P.t.S.:**** Yes, yes you are!**

**(Third Person POV)**

The teacher looked up from his desk. There was silence in the classroom, save for the scratching noise of pencils against paper, the sound of paper turning, and the soft murmur of softly spoken words. What made the 2nd Grade teacher scan the room was the noise of frantic scribbling. The red-headed teacher smiled when he saw the mass of black puffy hair towards the back of classroom, where the noise was located.

Unlike his 1st-Dimension counterpart, who would gladly shave every hair from his head himself for the sake of attending school, 5-year-old Baljeet Rai of the 2nd Dimension could hardly bear the thought of losing even one precious black curl. He avoided haircuts at all cost; and his hair had taken the appearance of a Cumulus cloud, perpetually hovering over his head; ready to rain on him. Baljeet was smart; he had skipped Kindergarten and whizzed through 1st Grade in a flash. It was a little strange to see the small, dark-skinned boy amongst the older students surrounding him. The teacher stood up and walked between the rows of chairs until he got to Baljeet's desk. The boy was still writing furiously when the teacher stopped in front of him. There was a tense silence; and all the kids turned in their chairs to see what would happen next. The teacher cleared his throat, and then spoke in a voice that alluded to how young he really was.

"Baljeet, what are you working on with so much spirit?" The dark-skinned student hung his head, a mixture of pride and shame welling up within him. When he answered, his high-pitched, Indian-accented voice was barely audible. Baljeet and his family were from India.

"A little free-time project," the boy muttered. The teacher sighed.

"May I see it, please?" Baljeet handed a stack of papers to the teacher without question. The young man scanned over the first page. In big letters it read:

_**What are dimensions, anyway?**_

_**and**_

_**Are they even real?**_

_**and**_

_**Is Interdimensional Travel really possible?**_

The teacher began to read the second page. And the third. And the fourth. The young man was obviously engrossed in what was written on the papers. The other children waited still, growing ever more uncomfortable in the process, to see if something interesting would happen. Finally, after it seemed like the teacher might forget about studies altogether, and spend the rest of the school period reading, he turned to Baljeet.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. Baljeet smiled and tapped the side of his head.

"From here," he said proudly. The teacher stared at the boy, dumbfounded. He then handed the papers back to the boy.

"That is truly some remarkable work, young man; especially coming from a boy your age. But," he said, raising a hand in the air and looking at Baljeet with as stern an expression as he could muster, "save your free-time projects for _after_ school; OK?" He smiled at the boy, who smiled back.

"Of course," said Baljeet. Just then, the teacher's cell phone rang. He blushed bright red, and several of the students giggled.

"Excuse me. . .one minute, please," stuttered the teacher as he made his way back to the front of the classroom and fished his phone out of his pocket. He picked it up.

"Hello? Yes, Sir, it's me. Yes? Yes. What? Wait, when? How? Who? You don't know? Well. . .uh," the teacher's red face changed to bright white. He began to shake, and clutched his own desk all of a sudden. "Now? But what about. . .yes, yes. Of course. I'm coming right away."

The young man hung up with a trembling hand. His face was ashen, his eyes wide behind his purple glasses. He opened his mouth, but it took a few tries for him to actually get anything out.

"School. . .school's dismissed," he muttered, already starting for the door. The children looked at each other; no one was laughing now. Baljeet spoke the thoughts of everyone in the room.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Karl?" he asked anxiously. The teacher was almost out the door. He turned back once more; terror was in his eyes.

"Yes," was all he said before shutting the door behind him, leaving a very confused and worried class behind.


	26. Chapter 24: Excellent

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Carl. . .is a tough character. I want to make something somewhat elaborate about him, but I don't know what. *Sigh* Oh, well. Let's just see how this goes, shall we?**

**(Third Person POV)**

There were robots everywhere. Francis was running down a long hallway, racking his brain, trying to think of a good hiding place amid the chaos that now surrounded him.

_How did this happen?_ The Major was thinking. _How on earth did the mayor find out about this? How could everything go so wrong? _But there was nothing, no one to answer these questions and more which filled his head until he could hardly contain them. The major skidded to a halt, pulled a blaster from somewhere behind his back (people in such circumstances seem to have a knack for doing this), wheeled round and blasted a Normbot's head off. The cumbersome metal body crashed to floor, blocking the hallway. Monogram continued his frantic running; sweat poured down his forehead and dripped off of his strangely-shaped nose. Flashes of color surrounded him, rushing to and fro. Monogram slowed to a walk, his breath coming in gasps. His legs were sore, his head was sore, his entire body hurt. Francis took this moment of rest to survey all that was going on around him.

The flashes of color that had been streaking about the major were, in fact, animals. But not ordinary animals. They were all trained secret agents, just like Perry. Speaking of Perry, Monogram hadn't seen Agent P for a few days now. . . Monogram forced any thoughts of the little blue monotreme out of his head. As important as Perry was, Monogram had to attend to the immediate right now; and that immediate was the battle that was raging on around him.

There were a few short, quick barks. Major Monogram turned toward the far end of the hall, and there was Agent P, or, to be more precise, Agent Pinky the Chihuahua, along with most (if not all) of the agents from Admiral Wanda Acronym's division. Monogram couldn't remember a time when he had been so happy to see the Admiral, dressed in pink as usual, her dark brown hair practically mocking the major's graying hair. Wanda halted before Francis, and spoke in a British-accented voice.

"Well, you've certainly got a spot of trouble here and no mistake. However do you manage to get yourself into these sorts of messes anyway, Francis?" Monogram's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not the one responsible for this and you know it," he retorted. This may have gone on, but a passing Gerbersian Wolfhound by the name of Sheila stopped and barked loudly. Neither Wanda nor Francis could speak dog, but they understood what she was telling them.

_Come on! We don't have time to argue! We need to save our energy for important things!_

Monogram turned to Wanda and sighed.

"Sheila's right. We don't have time to argue now." Wanda nodded.

"But we're going to settle this later." Monogram nodded. The fight continued, and at certain times it seemed that the agents were getting the advantage. All the replicas of the different scientists' inventions came in handy, and the robots were not that smart. But smart or not, they were powerful, and had at least one large advantage over the OWCA agents: their amount. The agents were being driven back on all sides by the sheer number of the Normbots; there were 7 or 8 robots for every one that was destroyed. Monogram ran around, giving encouragement to the fighters. But as more and more agents were wounded, and as Francis saw some lying motionless, never to get up again, a horrible fear filled his mind and plagued him.

_What if they couldn't make it?_

There was a loud commotion from one part of the headquarters. Pinky, standing on a heap of broken Normbot pieces, was sounding a charge. A small band of agents willingly followed the small dog into the midst of a bunch of Normbots. Monogram's heart welled with pride at the agent's courage, and yet felt heavy, because he was certain that none of those agents would make it out alive. He turned to Wanda, but instead of looking sad, she was smiling! Francis could hardly believe it. He waved her over to him.

"What are you smiling about?" he exclaimed, wondering if the melee was too much for this woman. In response, Wanda pointed towards the group of Normbots.

"See for yourself!" she exclaimed, just as loudly. Monogram turned, and stared in surprise. The Normbots were being taken down, first one, then two, then five! One by one the Normbots were being tackled and taken apart. Monogram felt hope filling him. Without really thinking about what he was doing, the major reached over and hugged the admiral. When Francis realized what he was doing, he quickly released the bright red Wanda. Monogram coughed a few times, then spoke.

"We should. . .we should really go and help the agents," he stuttered. Wanda agreed, and with renewed spirit, the two dove into the fray. Wanda halted for a moment and scanned the room.

"Where on earth is that unpaid intern of yours?" she questioned above the noise. "There's mine, Carly, over there," Wanda motioned to a teenage girl with reddish blond curls and braces who was busily attempting to actually use the weapon that she was holding. She also happened to be Carl's girlfriend. Monogram looked around the room, he couldn't see Carl, either.

"I'll give him a call," Monogram shouted back to Wanda. The admiral nodded, then returned to the fray that ensued around her. Francis pulled out his cell phone and dialed Carl's number. He didn't pick up. Monogram left him a message, though he doubted that the red-headed boy would be able to hear him above the din that enveloped the major. Francis turned back to the battle; and it seemed that the tide was again turning to the Normbots' favor.

_What's keeping those Normbots together?_ Monogram thought desperately. _They're usually so easy to scatter and break up. They aren't very organized or anything like that. _Francis scanned the area, looking for possible clues, but found none. One thought, though, persisted above the rest: _Where's Carl?_

_ "You're late." The man took a shaky breath; he had run practically the entire way there._

_ "I know; but you never told me when you were starting."_

_ "I expect my sub. . .assistants to always be prepared."_

_ "I was prepared."_

_ "Then why didn't you come?"_

_ "Like I said before, you didn't tell me." The other man heaved a long sigh._

_ "Well, that doesn't matter. The point is, you do what I told you to do."_

_ "I know, Sir."_

_ "You know the consequences for disobeying my orders."_

_ "Yes, Sir."_

_ "Good. Go get the information. Do that, and they won't be harmed."_

_ "I know the deal Sir, and you'd better keep it."_

_ "Of course I will. I never break a deal. Now go. And remember: if you fail, then they die."_

_ "I know, Sir. I will go. I will do what you told me to do."_

_ "Excellent. Now go." The man left, leaving the other still standing where he had been before. The man smiled to himself._

_ "Excellent."_


	27. Chapter 25: Resistance is Futile

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Dun, dun, DUN!**

**Monogram-2: What's gonna happen next?!**

**Carl-2: I can't watch!**

**Doof-2: (mumbles) Big babies.**

**P.t.S.****: Just so everyone's aware, I'm sort of basing my version of 2****nd**** Dimension Carl off of ****FrostShadowStar****'s version of Carl, mostly because her Carl is epically awesome. The main difference is that ****FrostShadowStar****'s version is working for Doof of his own accord, while my Carl is being forced; otherwise those that he cares for most will come to harm. If you want to know more about ****Frosty****'s Carl, then you should go and read her story **_**Spot of Blue Amongst the Grey**_**, which is a very good read (In fact, I'm waiting for the next chapters to be up!). *hint, hint, nudge-nudge***

**Anyhoo, I'm just saying this to give ****Frosty**** her due credit. Thanks for having an awesome Carl, ****Frosty!**** Oh, and I can call you ****Frosty****, right? Or would you rather have me say. . .type your whole username?**

**And all of you reading this. . .GO CHECK OUT HER STORIES AND ASK HER QUESTIONS ON HER TUBLR BLOG THINGY! You should also check out her artwork on Deviant Art (however you spell it. . .still), because it's pretty good.**

**One more quick note: Levi the Echidna belongs to ****The Dark Lord Duroth****, and Fender the Ferret belongs to ****ResistingTheBorg****.**

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes**** has spoken.**

**Oh, and HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ****The Dark Lord Duroth!**

**(Carl-2's POV)**

I practically ran all the way to the OWCA HQ. I had to get in there while everyone were still busy and confused and the like. When I got to the headquarters, I was somewhat surprised that a battle was still going on. It had seemed like forever until I had gotten to the HQ, and Normbots swamped the area. I slid down the tube located at the front door, and landed safely in the HQ. There was no one in the main hallway at the moment; the battle was ensuing in random parts of the large space.

I raced down the hallway, veering sharply around the corners. I avoided being seen by anyone and/or anything; I wasn't sure if the Normbots would see me as an enemy or not, and I didn't want to find out. I'd rather keep all my limbs intact, thank you very much. I nearly ran into Monogram, but managed to press myself flat up against the wall just in time. After making sure that the major was gone, I started down the hallway again, dodging anyone who might recognize me (which was pretty much everyone in the HQ), and trying to get to my goal unnoticed. What was my destination, you might ask?

The OWCA Supercomputer.

I halted to get a quick breather, and see where I was. The HQ had changed drastically during the fight; broken robot parts littered the ground, and my face turned completely white when I saw a small body of an agent lying not too far away from where I was standing. It was a dog. I teared up, thinking about the life that the agent had had ahead of him still with his owners. And now his entire life, gone. I couldn't bear to look at the fallen agent, so I turned away, feeling a strong hatred for myself and what I was doing. But what choice did I have?

I started running again, trying my best not to look right or left. It was hard not to, though, especially when you're trying to find your way through a maze of activity and flying parts. I served, jumped, ducked, and. . .fell. Without any warning whatsoever, I found myself on the ground, taken down by an agent. His name was Levi. Levi the Echidna. His expression was angry and determined, but changed to one of relief and mild surprise when he saw who he had tackled.

_Carl!_ The echidna made a sort of growling sound, and I was pretty sure I knew what he was trying to say to me.

_Where've you been all this time? We've been looking for you, like, everywhere! _Carl sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Yea, I know I've been gone," said the red-head, pushing Levi off of him. "But now I'm here, OK?" Levi looked up at me as I brushed myself off. I started off at a brisk pace, towards the center room of the OWCA Headquarters. Levi followed me at a distance, making sure that I didn't see him. I didn't really know it yet, but Levi was suspicious about something; he could tell right off that there was something. . ._different_ about me and my behavior.

My mind whirled. _Surely I didn't have to do this! _I thought desperately. But no alternative plan would come to my mind. I was doing this because, if I didn't, then they would be killed. I knew that Doofenshmirtz would do such a horrible act without even a second thought. He would kill them, he told me specifically; he would kill Monogram, and Wanda, and Carly, and. . .Perry. Perry was the best agent in the agency, and Doof had told me that he had been keeping Perry hostage the past few days, and that's why he didn't come into work. When Doof threatened me, all the air left my body, and I was really afraid that I might pass out in front of this guy. I didn't, thankfully, and we struck a deal. He would keep those that I love alive if, and only if, I gave him access to the data contained inside of the OWCA Supercomputer. Every last bit of it. Of course, I had agreed. What else could I have done? Try and defeat the evil scientist myself? Alone? No, only a stupid person would do that.

_But why was I doing this, right now? I know it's for my friends, and it will keep them alive, but why does it still feel horribly wrong? Why do I feel like the monster, when Doof is the one behind all of this?_

I had no answers to the questions which arose in my heart, so I just continued running.

The main room was where the most activity was going on. Normbots were everywhere, and so were the agents. Pinky swept by, saw me, and tipped his hat; offering me an encouraging smile. As you can probably guess, this only made me feel worse about what I was doing. I turned away from Pinky without flashing him a smile in return, like I always did. Pinky stood a moment, confused, then was diverted by a Normbot flying right towards him. I whirled round suddenly, hearing my name being shouted at me by a familiar voice.

"Carl! Over here!" I saw Major Monogram on the other side of the room, waving his arms frantically at me.

At first, I didn't want to come "over here". I didn't want Monogram to spy the guilt that I feared showed so plainly on my face. But then again, I didn't want to arouse suspicion by not going to him. So in the end, I walked over to the major, who grabbed me by the shirt and shook me until I was afraid that my glasses would go flying off.

"Where've you been?!" he asked me as sternly as he possibly could. I could see, though, behind his mask of anger, a burning anxiousness and worry for. . ._ME?!_ I could hardly believe it, and his feelings for me didn't help my situation in the least bit.

"I've been looking for you ever since the battle started!" continued the major at full blast. "What are you doing now?" I gulped, unable to bring myself to answer him at first. When I finally spoke, my voice was a small squeak.

"I'm. . .going to. . .download the information. . .from the OWCA. . .Supercomputer?" I stuttered fearfully, unable to look Francis in the eyes. There was a moment of long silence between us, despite the havoc of war that surrounded us. Then, Major Monogram clapped me on the back. I looked up into his face, and he was smiling down at me.

"Excellent idea!" he exclaimed happily. "I knew I could count on you to do your fair share of the work. Yes, download the info; yes, all of it; and take it where the wrong person won't be able to find it!" He clapped me on the back once more, shook my hand, and then went back to directing the fighting agents.

I stood for a moment, dazed. Of all the reactions I could have gotten, that one was definitely the least expected. I had never considered that Monogram might be _happy _about what I was doing. I turned and stumbled towards the large computer up against a wall towards the center of the large room. A ferret was standing in front of the Supercomputer, and was busily pressing buttons. His name was Fender the Ferret, and he worked in the technological field of the agency. You know, all the computers and the like. Right now, the small brown ferret seemed intent upon blocking the OWCA Supercomputer's mainframe from unwanted guests. I got to the computer, and shoved Fender aside roughly. He looked at me, confusion and annoyance on his face. I felt the same way as I began downloading all of the Supercomputer's data onto a memory card smaller than my hand. Fender growled/chattered at me; and I could tell that he wanted to know what I was doing.

"Major Monogram told me to do this," was all I said before turning back to the computer. I was almost finished putting all of the information into the memory chip, when I wheeled round at the sound of a laser blast and a scream. I gasped, and my face paled when I saw Carly, holding her hand to her face, stagger and fall onto the ground.

The info obtained, I yanked the memory card out of the computer and stuffed into my pocket. I ran forward, not caring anymore if anyone saw me or not. I knelt down by Carly's side, and for a moment, couldn't do anything but sob quietly with my head buried in my shaking hands. Carly's brown eyes fluttered open, and smiled up at me sweetly. I didn't lift my face away from my hands until I felt something touch them. I looked down at Carly, and she smiled again, more faintly now. I gripped her hand; it was splattered with red drops.

"Carl," Carly said, with some effort. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Carl, you, you made it." I couldn't help but smile down at her. I reached forward to examine her wound, but she pushed my hand away. I began to tear up again; I understood what she was trying to tell me.

"It's. . .no use, Carl," she said softly. She continued to stare intently at me. "What's the matter?" I began to cry again.

"I'm so confused," was all that came out of my mouth. Carly laughed a little.

"But you're always so organized!"

"Not now," I said, shaking my head slowly. My mind was a blur. _Doof told me that he wouldn't hurt those that I loved and held dear. Why?_

Carly's eyes softened even more, if that was possible. "Carl," she said slowly. It was becoming more difficult for her to speak, and I was afraid that she was wasting energy. She wouldn't be quiet, though.

"Carl, you were always doing the right thing. You never made me wait; you were never unkind to me or made me feel uncomfortable in any way. You, you were always a great. . .great model." Carly inhaled deeply, and then continued.

"Promise me. . . . .promise me that, that you'll always be that way. Promise me. . ." she broke off suddenly into a fit of coughing. I gripped her hand even more tightly, and looked down at Carly. But I didn't say anything. I couldn't keep that promise.

_What if she knew about the memory chip in my pocket? What if she knew what and why I was really here for?_

_I can't promise you this, Carly. I'm sorry, but I can't._

With these thoughts spinning through my head, I turned my face once more towards my girlfriend. She was deathly pale, and her breath was coming in gasps. I knew that she didn't have much time left. I leaned forward, closer, and kissed her full on the lips. It's something that she and I hadn't done before; we considered ourselves too young for anything that serious. But this was our last moment together, and it seemed appropriate that I should do this to her at least once in our relationship.

"I love you," I whispered, barely able to get the words out.

"I love you too," Carly murmured. Her eyes closed; her breathing stopped.

I sat there for what seemed like ages, just staring at Carly's body.

_I can't go back to Doofenshmirtz! _I suddenly thought, furious at the evil man's betrayal. _I can't, and I won't! Nothing can make me go back there!_

I rose to my feet, my mind set. I wouldn't go back to that lying murderer. I just couldn't. Another scream pierced the air. I turned around quickly, feeling sick. The brown-haired beacon fell, a little ways away from where I stood, right next to Carly's body. From somewhere quite close to me, I could hear the Major's terrified voice, screaming in a voice that seemed hoarse.

"WANDA!" My stomach flopped, and my legs buckled. I was hardly able to stand upright. Admiral Wanda Acronym, leader of at least half the agents in this building. . ._gone._ Without her assistance, Monogram couldn't possibly direct all the agents at once. Already some parts of the battle were crumbling, as the frightened and wounded agents broke ranks and ran before the horrible Normbots. I looked around, desperately hoping to catch sight of who had killed the Admiral.

Amid the Normbots that now flew in, without and restraint, into the room with the Supercomputer in it, I saw a small, shrouded figure advancing slowly. As it came closer, however, I could see that it was made almost entirely out of metal. The black helmet gleamed blood-red as it reflected the red color of the lasers flying past it. The small creature's tail stood erect, and as it scanned the room, it's brown, unfeeling eyes seemed to rest on me for a moment. In that moment, the creature's face broke into a smile; a smile of cruelty, of hatred, of joy, of victory.

The OWCA had been defeated. Doofenshmirtz had won.

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for taking so long in updating, guys! I hope you're all happy with how this came out!**

**Oh, and before I forget, ****Galaxina-the-Seedrian**** is writing a story called **_**Across the Psychotic Dimension**_**.** **It is a very good and hilarious and pointless book made up of one-shots. And yes, she's taking requests. I advise the faithful readers of my story to go and check out **_**Across the Psychotic Dimension**_** by ****Galaxina-the-Seedrian****. Believe me, you'll be glad that you did!**

**God bless you all; thanks for continuing to R and have a blessed whatever-time-of-day-or-night-it-is-when-you-read-this!**


	28. Chapter 26: The Truth

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Thanks for Reading and Reviewing, folks! I hope you plan on reading those stories that I mentioned in the last chapter! It's your fanfiction homework assignment!**

**(Third Person POV)**

12-year-old Vanessa Doofenshmirtz pulled her hair back and combed through it quickly with a brush. Her mother, Charlene Doofenshmirtz, had asked Vanessa if she had ever thought about putting her hair up. Vanessa had, indeed, thought of this, but had never put it into practice before. Now she was going to put her hair up, though, and she paused a moment to glance out of the window towards the city, where her father, Heinz Doofenshmirtz, lived.

Vanessa's parents had broken up even before Vanessa was born. Her mother came to live in a house in the suburbs, while her father preferred the city. Vanessa had asked her mother why they had broken up, and Charlene always replied with statements like:

"When you're older, I'll tell you."

"We had different things that we wanted to do."

"His house was always a mess."

Or a simple

"I don't know."

Vanessa didn't really believe in what her mother told her. Firstly, Vanessa was twelve years old, almost a teenager! She wasn't (or, at least, she didn't consider herself to be) to young not to know about her own Mom and Dad. Alright, maybe they _did_ have different things that they wanted to do. But sometimes Vanessa and her Mom had different things that they wanted to do, and they never broke up about it or moved away from each other, like her Mom and Dad had.

_His house was always a mess?!_ This was, by far, the worst excuse that Vanessa had ever heard for someone breaking up with another person. It seemed that every other day, Charlene was yelling at Vanessa to clean her own room, and her Mom had never packed up and moved out because of a messy house. That just sounded ridiculous to Vanessa.

But. . . I don't know. How could her Mom not know about why she broke up with her own husband? That didn't make any sense to Vanessa, which was probably what Charlene wanted. Vanessa had come to the conclusion that her Mom _didn't_ want her to know about her Dad. Why did they never visit him, anyway? Vanessa, still holding her brown hair in her fisted hand, turned to her Mom. Who was reading a book on the couch and waiting for the spaghetti to boil, and made a rather bold request.

"Mom, can we go see Dad today?"

Charlene looked up, surprised. Had she heard her daughter correctly? Had she asked about going to her father's house? Charlene wanted to make absolutely sure.

"What was that, dear?"

"I want to go and visit dad today." Vanessa's eyes seemed to flash with a hidden desire, a longing to see her father. She had hardly seen him; only as a little girl. But as Doofenshmirtz became more and more estranged, as he drew farther and farther into darkness, Charlene could see the danger starting to show in him, and departed quickly, vowing that she would never return to Danville. Doof had seemed not to care at his ex-wife's plan, and had in fact urged her to go during their last fight, saying that he would have banned her anyway when he became the mayor.

So Charlene had fled to the suburbs, and remained there with her daughter, Vanessa. Vanessa had grown up to be very like her mother, but she had a stubbornness, a determinedness about her which her father had. When Vanessa had a mission to accomplish, she stayed on-track, and didn't quit until she had either reached her goal, or had been so utterly defeated with no alternative track. Vanessa had proved this during a trip to the grocery store, something about pizzazium whatever-you-call-it, a 3-D image, a giant Swiss Army Knife, escalators, and crazy kids in carts. Charlene herself wasn't so sure about what had happened.

The point was, Vanessa wanted to see her father again. It had several years since she had last seen him, and now she didn't intend on staying away from him for another day. She looked her mother straight in the eye, and waited for an answer. Her mother sighed and put the book down. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Vanessa, the day is almost over. We're eating dinner now. Maybe some other-"

"Tomorrow."

"Vanessa, we can't go and see your father tomorrow. We have a busy schedule, and I'm not sure if we can possibly fit a trip to go see your dad in there." Vanessa's eye's flashed dangerously. She was getting angry.

"We don't have anything tomorrow, mom, and you should know that better than me. Why are you making excuses? What are you hiding from me?" Charlene rung her hands together; she looked nervous, almost scared.

"Vanessa, we've talked about this before, and I will tell you when you're older." Vanessa stamped her foot and flung her hair back. It hung down her back, but her fists were still clenched.

"I _am_ older, mom!" she said, her voice rising. "I started asking about Dad when I was _six!_ I'm _twelve_ now Mom, twelve! That's _twice_ as much as six! I can't believe you're not going tell me about my own Dad, let alone visit him!" The last part of Vanessa's ranting had become a shout, and with a sudden, furious motion, Vanessa threw her brush against the wall. As the brush clattered to the ground, silence then descended. When Charlene broke the silence, her voice was slow and quiet.

"Your Dad, Vanessa, I have cause to believe, is evil." Vanessa stood there, stunned. This was _not _what she expected her mother to say. _That couldn't be the reason. It just couldn't!_

"What?" she asked, her voice equally slow and low. Charlene repeated herself, a little louder.

"Your father, is evil."

"He can't be!" Vanessa wailed, her voice still full of incredulous disbelief. "You told me that no one was truly evil!"

"I seems that I might have made a mistake," Charlene answered slowly. Vanessa looked her mom right in the eye.

"Do you have proof that Dad's evil? When did you find this out?"

"I don't really _have_ proof, dear, but I could sort of feel it. I felt it during one of our last fights. It was a feeling of danger, urging me to leave with you. . .and not return."

"But. . .but dad _can't_ be evil! He sends me cards on my birthday, and he gets me a present for Christmas! Remember when I was three, and he sent me a life-sized remote control car that you didn't let me drive until only two years ago? An evil person wouldn't send someone presents!"

"Maybe he feels obligated to send you presents because you're his daughter."

"But, this doesn't make any sense! I just want to know why you and Dad didn't stay together, and you tell me that he's evil! Don't you know how crazy that sounds? Especially coming from your own mouth?" Vanessa was growing angry again. Furious. She couldn't believe that her mother would resort to telling her own daughter lies. I didn't make sense. But, it couldn't be the truth! Why would her Dad be evil? IN the newspaper a few days ago, it had said that Heinz Doofenshmirtz was the new mayor of Danville. The citizens of Danville wouldn't elect an evil person to be mayor! Suddenly, Vanessa snapped.

"YOU'RE LYING!" she screamed, enraged. "YOU DON'T HAVE PROOF THAT DAD COULD POSSIBLY BE EVIL! YOU DON'T! YOU'RE JUST LYING TO ME BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT ME TO KNOW ABOUT MY OWN FATHER! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD LIE TO YOUR OWN DAUGHTER! WHY?" With that, Vanessa fled the room, tears flowing freely. She slammed her door shut, and the sound of muffled sobbing could be heard from behind the closed door.

Charlene went to check on the spaghetti, only to find that it had over boiled and made a mess of the stove and floor, Charlene turned the heat off, but left the mess. She sat down in the family room again, staring down at the floor. She left Vanessa alone; she wasn't sure if going to see her would help Vanessa or not. Charlene sat for a few minutes, thinking. Then she got up and started for the kitchen to make a phone call.


	29. Chapter 27: Friendship Starts Somewhere

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Hehehehehe. . .**

**That's right. I'm gonna make you all WAIT and not see what's happening with the OWCA peoples.**

**Hehehehehe.**

**Aren't I evil? X)**

**(Third Person POV)**

Candace got up the next morning, a faint hope burning within her that she might see a small, teal platypus on the edge of her bed, looking at her with kind, brown eyes. But there was nothing colorful to be seen on the grey coverlets. Candace swung her legs 'round to the side of the bed and slid out. She had woken up early, as she usually did, and it didn't take her long to slip on her white shirt and Doofendress. She pulled a brush through her tangled orange hair as she descended the steps and walked out into the kitchen.

Candace stood a moment, alone. She was the only one up, like usual, and she breathed in the quiet of a seemingly peaceful, normal morning. At least, she wished it were normal. Candace went over to the fridge and opened the door wide. She stood for a moment, considering her few breakfast choices. She couldn't eat cereal (she was allergic to dairy products); she didn't feel like eggs that tasted like rubber; so she pulled out a container of butter and, shutting the fridge door, walked over to the counter. Grabbing two pieces of bread, Candace put them into the toaster oven, and went to wake up her brothers.

Phineas and Ferb lay, still asleep, in their beds. Ferb's arm and hand were wrapped around a pillow, and Phineas' one hand was stretched out across the sheets. As Candace opened the door and peered in, Phineas began to shift around in the bed. As he moved about, his hand began to instinctively search his bed, going back and forth over the sheets. Candace, unable to watch, stepped out into the hallway and held back a sob. After a moment of shifting about, Phineas seemed to know that it was futile to keep searching, so he became still, and then opened his eyes slowly. Blinking in the light that streamed from the open window above his bed, Phineas yawned, and turned to the black bedside clock to see what time it was. Ferb also sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking rapidly. Candace stepped into the room once more, acting as if she had just come upstairs.

"Up and at 'em, you two," Candace said, standing in the doorway with arms crossed. Phineas nodded and Ferb continued to blink stupidly.

"We know," Phineas muttered, falling back onto his pillow. Ferb slid out of his bed and went over to the chest of drawers where the boys' clothes were kept. Pulling out two pairs of Dooferalls and two white shirts, Ferb threw one of the Dooferalls and shirt at Phineas. They covered the redhead's face, and there came a muffled groan from underneath the clothing.

"Alright, alright! I'm awake." Phineas sat up and began taking his pajama top off.

"What do you two want to eat?" Candace asked. Phineas shrugged.

"I don't know. . .toast, I guess?" Phineas still wasn't fully awake. Ferb just nodded in agreement, and Candace went down the stairs.

She ran into the kitchen as soon as she smelled burning. Her toast, still inside the toaster oven, was burnt to a crisp. Candace sighed, took one of the pieces, and took a small taste. She spat it out into the trash can almost immediately. Gross. Tasted just like ashes and charcoal. Candace threw away the toast, and put in two new ones for Phineas. This time, she stood in front of the toaster and made sure to take it out when it was properly toasted.

Phineas trudged into the kitchen. He stopped and looked around, his eyes, which had gleamed for a moment with a little of his optimistic spirit, died quickly when no platypus could be seen in the kitchen.

"Where's Perry?" he asked his older sister, although he already knew what was coming.

"He's not here," Candace replied. Ferb came out to the kitchen, and Candace handed him and Phineas their pieces of toast. While the boys ate, Candace gathered her school things and packed lunches. Mrs. Flynn was nowhere to be seen, and Candace didn't really blame her. Who would want to come into a kitchen full of lifeless, worrying kids? Most certainly not the mother herself. But still. . .Candace sighed softly as she put the sandwiches into brown paper bags. She wasn't old enough to start taking on these responsibilities! As long as Candace could remember, Mom was the one who made everyone's breakfasts and lunches. And although Candace was certainly old enough to do these things herself, she still felt. . . .like the adult now. Like she was the only person who was really trying to retain some of the old spirit of the house. The only one who didn't change.

Was that true? Was she really _still _the same orange-headed girl who hugged Ducky Mo-mo dolls and needed a nighttime story in order to fall asleep? While it was true that a 12-year-old girl didn't do these sorts of things anyway, was she really still Candace Flynn? Or was she a completely different person now?

The sound of a school bus rumbling up the street interrupted Candace's thoughts. She glanced up at the clock on the wall; it was much later than she had first thought. She looked into the dining room to see Phineas and Ferb scarfing their food like there was no tomorrow. Ferb began gagging as he tried to eat his toast AND take a long chug of water at THE SAME TIME. Chaos ensued right before Candace's eyes as the bread and water in Ferb's mouth erupted all over the table and floor. Ferb continued choking, and Phineas gulped down his water and food at the same time despite what had just happened to his poor step-brother. Candace moaned as the school bus came closer.

"Phineas, help your brother clean up that mess!"

"But I haven't even finished breakfast yet!" Phineas stuttered, looking at his plate. Candace moaned again and ran out to get her brothers' school stuff.

"PHINEAS!" she shouted from somewhere else in the house. "HELP FERB CLEAN UP THE DINING ROOM OR SO HELP ME I WILL MAKE _YOU_ CHOKE!"

"She doesn't have to be so BOSSY about it," Phineas muttered as he dumped the entire contents of the napkin basket onto a small patch of tile.

5 minutes later saw the three siblings tearing down the driveway towards the bus like there was no tomorrow. Phineas and Ferb bounded onto the bus, which was easy for them because they were only holding their lunches. Candace, meanwhile, was not only holding her lunch and her books; she was also trying to balance Phineas' and Ferb's books, as well. Just when it seemed that she couldn't be going any slower, Candace dropped a book. Then another. Soon Candace was just standing there in the driveway, staring at the books scattered about her like there was no tomorrow.

Uproarious chuckling and giggling erupted from the bus as the other kids laughed as if what they were witnessing was the funniest thing on earth. . .and as if there was no tomorrow.

Candace, her face turning as red as it became when her wild parsnip allergy kicked in, started picking up, and dropping again, the books around her; mumbling apologies to a very exasperated bus driver.

"Come on, girly," he said gruffly. "It's not like I can wait till tomorrow for ya! Not like there IS going to be a tomorrow, anyway." That last part the bus driver whispered to himself.

Candace was, sadly, unable to go any faster. She was near tears now; and half of her wanted to throw down the books that she was desperately clutching at the moment and run back into her house, crying. But she forced herself to keep her eyes trained on the ground; to continue picking up books (and dropping them again), and to tune out and ignore the laughter directed at her. The bus driver grumbled something unintelligible, and was about to drive up the street and leave Candace still trying to clear up her mess, when he was stopped suddenly.

"Stop!" The driver turned, and found himself confronted by a young teenage boy with a long neck, light blue eyes, and a rather ridiculously long neck. His eyes gleamed with a certain fierceness, and yet also with compassion. He looked right into the bus driver's eyes.

"What sort of man are you, who won't even wait for a lady!" The boy seemed intensely offended by what the driver had been about to do, and his eyes showed it plainly. The driver muttered again, turning his eyes to the ground. The boy hopped out of the bus without another word, and walked over to the girl. The bus driver did nothing to stop him; but waited.

The boy reached out and touched the girl on the shoulder. She looked up, completely taken off guard. The boy smiled kindly at her; he reached forward and took the books out of her hands.

"I'm Jeremy," he said, "Jeremy Johnson." The girl smiled, a weary, relieved smile.

"My name's Candace Flynn," she replied, flinging her bright orange hair back from her face.

In no time at all, the books were cleaned up and the two boarded the bus.

"Welcome aboard, Monsieur and Misses," said the bus driver with a bow. He received nothing in return but an icy look from Jeremy, so he got back into the driver's seat and started the bus. Candace sat down next to her brothers, and shoved their books into their laps.

"Here," she said gruffly. "Next time, you get your own things." Candace sighed, and Phineas and Ferb looked at her sadly.

"Yes, Candace," Phineas said in a small voice. Ferb nodded. Candace sighed again, and hugged her brothers.

"I love you," she whispered. "You know that, don't you?" Phineas nodded.

"Yes, Candace," Ferb replied.

The three hugged again, and held onto each other like there was no tomorrow.


	30. Chapter 28: Overrated

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:** **Sorry for not uploading in such a long time! I know that some of the great reviewers asked about action. I'm not trying to point anyone out or make them feel guilty, but a lot of this story is going to have explaining and the whatnot. I myself would like to up the action a bit, but this part of the story that I'm working on is leading up to a chapter that I myself didn't even write, but one that is chock-full of action. Once again, I apologize for the slow pace of the story so far, but your waiting will not be in vain!**

**(Third-Person POV)**

Dr. Bloodpudding sat at a small table towards the back of the small ice-cream shop on the corner of Corndog Street. . .

"Wait," said Dr. Bloodpudding, looking up from his delicious strawberry milkshake, "Corndog Street?!"

**Well, yea.**

"But, but that doesn't even make any sense!" exclaimed the evil doctor. "Who would even give a street that type of name?!"

**I would.**

"But WHY?"

**Cause I could.**

"You couldn't think of anything better to write, could you?"

**Nope, not really.**

"What's wrong with your imagination today, author? And you better not be thinking about your OTHER STORY with all that magic, and glyphs, and Alexander T. Great, and who-knows-what-else!"

**I am now, all thanks to you. Way to go. Some evil genius YOU are.**

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" sobbed the doctor, getting his tears into his now not-so-delicious-anymore milkshake. "YOU HATE THIS STORY! YOU HATE P&F! YOU DON'T LIKE IT ANYMORE SINCE YOU STARTED YOUR OWN STORY!"

**Why would I be working on this story if I didn't like P&F?**

"Uhhhhhhhh. . .because. . .."

**HA! You have no proof! I knew it! And what's more, you're just jealous that I have another life away from the world of wonderful fanfiction!**

"I. . .I am?"

**Uhhhh, DUR!**

_**Someone just earned their 'Uhhh-DUR!' patch!**_

"You didn't tell me that your sister was visiting!"

**Izzy C…P, I need you to please-**

_**The 'P' is not supposed to be CAPITALIZED, thank you very much.**_

**I don't care. This is a story and the audience is watching.**

**(**crickets.)

_**Bring on the crickets!**_

(silence)

_**Hey, P.t.S., can Messy come-**_

**No.**

_**But what if-**_

**No.**

_**But-**_

**BEGON!**

(magical cloud makes _**Izzy C…p**_vanish)

**Phew. Glad that's over.**

**. . .**

**Now, where was I?**

"Don't you mean 'we'?"

**No.**

.

.

.

.

ANYHOO, Doctor Bloodpudding was thinking about Rodney's ingenious, flawless plan. He took a sip of his milkshake, only to realize that it wasn't delicious anymore, since he had cried into it.

**(The big baby)**

What was a doctor to do?

**(Once again, big, stupid baby)**

Going over to the counter, the ingenious **(not)** Dr. Bloodpudding ordered another strawberry milkshake and sat down, once again in the corner of the shop.

What was an evil scientist doing in an ice cream shop, and why was he hiding? Well, Dr. Bloodpudding had a weakness. A horribly strong weakness. He had a weakness for milkshakes. He would go and get one almost every single day, and just sit inside the shop, slurping away at the great cool sweetness that he had learned to crave. But of course, he was also an evil scientist. I mean, what were the chances of someone finding an evil doctor with an evil-sounding name, who did something as childish as go out for ice cream? It sounded. . .sick.

Dr. Bloodpudding sighed as he stirred his melting shake. This was the last day that the ice cream shop would be open. The owner of the shop was giving away all of the ice cream for free, because it would be closing down for good, never to open again.

"Why?" you may ask. It was all thanks to the _wonderful_ mayor Doofenshmirtz. Apparently, he didn't want anyone to experience any kind of joy or sweetness anymore, and he was intent on making life as miserable as he possible could for everyone else in this wretched city. That was why the ice cream shop (and any other shop that supplied any kind of sweet thing) would be going out of business, starting tomorrow. Dr. Bloodpudding was intent on taking all of the ice cream from this shop home to store in his freezer; at least HE would partake in sweet delight for a little while longer. The ice-cream hogging kids were all in school anyway; _they_ wouldn't be taking any of his precious ice cream away. They would have to deal with the incredible ice-cream scarfing Dr. Bloodpudding first.

A "ding" caused Dr. Bloodpudding to look up in alarm. He shrank into the shadows, waiting to see who had entered the shop. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the intruder was only a chubby kid. But the relief was overcome with confusion and shock when the boy walked up to the counter and ordered a large (VERY large, in fact) ice cream sundae. He wouldn't take the spoon that the waiter offered him, even though it was plastic. The boy adjusted his pink, circular glasses, and his gazed swept over the entire area of the small shop. His eyes finally rested on the scientist in the corner with the crazy beard and hairdo, and the boy immediately started forward. After seating himself a little ways away from the embarrassed adult, the boy began to lick the ice cream, and Dr. Bloodpudding examined him, wondering why the kid hadn't bought a cone.

After a moment of somewhat awkward silence (these two were the only ones in the shop, apart from a few waiters), the boy spoke, still keeping his attention on his sundae.

"So, how's Rodney?"

Dr. Bloodpudding was in the middle of a super long slurp of ice cream, and since his mind wasn't completely alert at that exact moment, he answered without even thinking.

"He's doing quite fine."

Irving moved his eyes, just barely, in order to look at the scientist. He couldn't allow himself even the smallest of smiles, though; wouldn't want to give anything away.

"And the other members of RESATID?"

"Well, things have been going a little slowly the past few weeks; but Rodney's hit upon a plan; a pretty clever one, if you ask me."

"Are you referring to the Secret Weapon?"

"Why yes! In fact-" Dr. Bloodpudding stopped in mid-sentence. His straw was posed above his milkshake, his eyes wide. He turned and looked at the boy, who was doing his best to suppress his giggles. Now they burst out of him, and the boy shook uncontrollably.

"I. . .I can't believe that some people can be so dumb!" Irving gasped, trying to talk. "Of all the people that I've made acquaintance with, you RESATID members really do make my day! And you haven't even _NOTICED_ yet!" And with that Irving fell to the floor, clutching his sides and heaving, while both Dr. Bloodpudding and the waiters looked on with some concern, both for different reasons. Finally, Dr. Bloodpudding was able to find his voice.

"How, how long have you known this?" Irving sat up, wiping his eyes and cleaning his glasses.

"I've known for a while, _Dr. Bloodpudding._ And I know everything about what you're planning to do." The boy got back into his chair and looked right into the scientist's eyes. "And I can tell anyone I want what you've been up to," Irving continued, his voice low and quiet now, "even our _wonderful_ mayor." The boy looked slyly at Dr. Bloodpudding before adding "And Rodney would really _dislike_ that, now wouldn't he?"

Dr. Bloodpudding opened his mouth to say something, but nothing could come out. He just sat there with his mouth hanging open like a glasses-case. Irving looked at him out of the corner of his eye, doing his best to look sly and wily, and failing horribly at it.

"What. . .what do you want," Dr. Bloodpudding finally stammered, "if you will keep RESATID and its ways a secret from anyone?" Irving took a few more licks from his melting sundae before replying.

"Do you have anything with you?"

Dr. Bloodpudding got up (his milkshake forgotten) and went out to his car. Irving watched with some interest as the scientist pulled some small, strange-looking contraptions out of his vehicle. When the evil doctor came back into the shop, Irving rubbed his hands and adjusted his glasses. Dr. Bloodpudding showed each of his inventions to the boy, giving their names and listing the things that they could accomplish. At last, Irving motioned towards a machine that looked like some sort of laser gun with a cord and plug attached to it.

"I'll take the virus-deleter," he said. Dr. Bloodpudding began to stutter again.

"Uhhh, well, actually, I was going to give that to Orville. . .he wouldn't be, be happy if I gave it to some stran. . .uh, someone he didn't know." **(the big baby)** Irving covered a yawn.

"How sad," he said in a monotone voice. "Well, then, allow me to make this a bit simpler for you: the machine, or uncovered secrets."

The evil scientist stood there for a few more seconds, stuttering and stammering **(and being a big baby)** before handing over the "virus-deleter" to the enthusiastic kid. Irving snatched it away, chuckling to himself over such great business. His sundae was pretty much just a puddle of liquefied ice-cream now, so he hurriedly drank up the rest and started for the door.

_Nothing else I can do around here, sadly_ thought Irving as he was about to open the door. _Nothing new has happened, if you don't count the OWCA. . .storming. . ._

Just as quickly as he opened the door, Irving slammed it shut again. The waiters and Dr. Bloodpudding jumped in surprise, and Irving practically ran back to where the evil scientist was finishing up his milkshake.

"You know," started Irving, doing his best not to do anything. . .unintelligent in any way, "I haven't gotten such a great deal in the history of my career!"

"Good for you," replied Dr. Bloodpudding sarcastically, sounding very annoyed and anything but happy. "What do you want from me now?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Irving, who could barely restrain himself from jumping up and down and grinning stupidly as he said the next part, "In fact, I'd like to give you a bonus for your generosity."

"Go on," Dr. Bloodpudding interrupted, unable to hold back his grudging interest in the matter at hand.

"What if I told you about something that Dr. Doofenshmirtz just did," said Irving, in a loud, hoarse-sounding whisper, "something so momentously evil and unheard of, that he has had to keep it secret from the rest of the world?" Irving threw out his hands for dramatic effect, but it wasn't necessary. Dr. Bloodpudding's interest was hooked when he heard the boy say "Doofenshmirtz". When the boy paused, though, Dr. Bloodpudding grew impatient.

"Well, what is it?" he finally exclaimed, "what is it that's so secret that the mayor has to hide it from everyone else?!" Dr. Bloodpudding said that, rather loudly, and the waiters looked at him in alarm. Irving put his finger to his lips, smiled and waved at the shocked waiters, then leaned forward.

"You may want to make to a few notes, so that way you can remember everything perfectly," Irving said in a quiet voice. "I'm sure that Rodney is going to want to know everything perfectly."

**Author's Note:**

**What is Rodney gonna do when he gets this information? What else does Irving possibly have to gain from this situation? Will Doofenshmirtz go bankrupt? What is happening (or going to happen) to the OWCA members? How does someone **_**actually **_**cheat at **_**Go Fish**_**? Will the readers' heads explode from trying to answer so many questions?**


	31. Chapter 29: Do Opposites Attract?

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Well, I really don't have much to say, except for a thanks for the continued reading and reviewing. And yes, I'm going to get to some action at some point in time.**

**And yes, I'm horrible at time management.**

**(Third Person POV)**

"Isn't it great?"

Doofenshmirtz and Platyborg stood outside of the Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated building, staring up at it. Other random peoples on their way to work also stopped to look with some alarm at the now finished building.

"Amazing how quickly those workers managed to complete it," Doofenshmirtz said, more to himself than to his general standing next to him. "I mean, I guess having _all _the workers come over to my house in order to finish more quickly must have helped speed up the process." Doofenshmirtz then turned towards his (still unnamed) general. "What do you think, Cyborg?"

As the metal platypus stared at the building, all he could think was, _How on earth do people expect the new attachments to stay attached? _

For, you see, the new-and-improved version of the Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated didn't look very safe. At all. The building had two new parts branching off of the original (because Doof was too lazy to actually get rid of anything) so that way Doof could fit more of his stuff into it. Some of the stuff that he owned didn't even make sense to the cybernetic platypus; for instance, a skeleton that the cyborg highly doubted actually came from any living creature, extinct or non-extinct.

Anyhoo, back to the building. The two new attachments branched off of the original; the only things really holding them up were several very large bars of metal, held in place with impossibly large screws. The new attachments were painted differently, as well: black and purple stripes. The cyborg wasn't exactly sure about how well the stripes went with the original just purple, but his master seemed to love the combination. Also, all the domes (the attachments had domes, similar to the original) were glass. Doofenshmirtz had even had the first dome redone with glass panels that looked like regular windows on the inside, but an eerie, bright green when looked upon from the outside. On one side of the room, the glass dome stretched all the way to the floor. Also, Doofenshmirtz had _insisted_ that the outside of the walls be redone. Now they were more like unconventional architecture. I mean, seriously, would a wall with spinning segments ever actually _help_ a person? The cyborg could think of nothing useful (except maybe for room space) that the "improvements" on the building could accomplish. But all that mattered was that his master, the mayor of Danville, liked it. That was the use they could accomplish. Making his master happy. The cyborg turned his head away from the building, and noticed that Doof was looking at him, a somewhat annoyed expression on his face.

"Well?" he asked the cyborg. The cyborg looked back at him. Doofenshmirtz gave a long sigh; a sign which meant that the cyborg had offended his master.

"I asked you a question," the mayor stated in an aggravated voice. "What do you think?" The cyborg looked from Doofenshmirtz to the building, then back to Doof. He chattered in his low, mechanical voice. Doofenshmirtz nodded and smiled, apparently pleased with whatever answer the cyborg just gave him. In case you hadn't noticed, Doofenshmirtz now trusted his general. The cyborg "Perry" would do nothing to hurt him, nothing to cause him pain. Every wish that Doof had was the cyborg's command. The cyborg would do anything for him. Anything at all.

The sound of a car's engine broke into the thoughts of the two, and both jumped at the sound. A black sedan was coming towards the house, and Doofenshmirtz suddenly remembered something that was supposed to happen that day.

"Stay back!" Platyborg started at the harshness of Doofenshmirtz's voice. The metal cyborg had moved forward, balling his hands into metal fists, his eyes narrowing into brown slits. The cyborg stood, looking with confusion at the approaching vehicle, then at Doof, and then he stepped back slowly.

The car was being followed by a slew of Normbots. It was a wonder that they hadn't opened fire on the sedan, but they must have been deterred when the occupants of the car claimed to have the name of "Doofenshmirtz".

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_10 minutes earlier. . ._

_Doofenshmirtz's Ex-wife's Sports Sedan! _

"What. . .?" Vanessa's voice faded as she stared out the window. She heard her mother in the driver's seat give a little gasp. Buildings were being torn down, destroyed, and/or repainted. Hardly anyone could be seen on the streets. A strangely-shaped bus sped past, disregarding any type of speeding rules.

"What **is** all of this?" Vanessa finally got her mouth working. "What's going on? Did Dad do this?"

"I have cause to believe so, dear," Charlene replied in a small voice. The two females were quiet for a moment, each with their own thoughts. A strange whirring noise broke into the silence; a sound which Charlene and Vanessa had first thought came from the car. The noise persisted, however, and seemed to be getting louder.

"What could be making that noise?" Charlene muttered.

"I don't. . ." Vanessa trailed off as she looked out the back window. Her mouth hung open, and she was unable to make any sound. A group of flying robots, a quickly growing group, was following their car. Vanessa felt her goose bumps rising, and her face turned pale.

"Mom. . ." she said in a shaky voice.

"Yes, Vanessa?"

"You. . .you should really, really look out the window." Charlene turned around in her seat once she came to a red light. Her mouth hung open, and her glasses nearly fell off her face. One of the robots flew right up to the front window. Charlene rolled down the window with a hand that trembled.

"May I see your papers?" the smiling robot asked in a cheery voice. Charlene and Vanessa remained silent. The smiling face vanished inside of the robot's body, and a bucket-shaped head appeared in its place.

"Show me your travel papers or be destroyed," the robot commanded in a deep, hostile voice. Vanessa and Charlene were shocked at the sudden change of attitude.

"We. . .we don't have any. . .travel papers. . ." Charlene stuttered. The robot hovered closer.

"Name," it said.

"Charlene. . .Charlene Doofenshmirtz." The robot stopped coming closer.

"Doofenshmirtz. . ." it said slowly. It hovered for a moment, seeming to consider the information it had just obtained. It finally turned and looked down at the two again.

"Come with me," it ordered. The Normbot moved over a bit, and Charlene began driving again. The robots were not shooting at them or anything, but they weren't leaving, either. They were going to keep the vehicle in their sight for as long as they wanted. Neither Vanessa nor Charlene spoke during the entire rest of the drive. Soon, the two saw a building which towered above the rest. Vanessa looked at it through the window, and then turned to her mom.

"Is that. . .Dad's, house?"

"I think so," Charlene replied.

Vanessa didn't dare roll down the window and look out, but she strained to see the figures standing just outside of the building. There were two in particular, one very short, the other much taller. They were both facing towards the car, watching it approach. One of them, the taller one, looked familiar to Vanessa.

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_Present moment_

"Go inside cyborg." Doofenshmirtz gave the blunt order to the now utterly lost cyborg. Platyborg chattered and turned towards the building. He shot one look back at the car. His master glared at him, and the cyborg walked inside. Doof turned towards the car as it stopped, and the front door opened. Charlene stepped out.

"Why, hello Charlene!" Doofenshmirtz exclaimed, walking over to the sedan as Charlene moved to open up a side door on the car. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Charlene gave him a cold stare as she opened the car door.

"We're here, Vanessa," she said in a voice that sounded strained. Doofenshmirtz's eye got bigger when he saw his daughter step out of the vehicle. It had been a long time since he had seen her, and he could hardly believe how much she had changed. He walked over to her, and she looked up at him, her eyes full of uncertainty and confusion.

"Dad, what are all the robots for?" she asked. Vanessa looked him up and down. "And why are you wearing a dress?"

An awkward silence followed this question.

"It's not a dress," Doofenshmirtz finally answered, "And the robots are for security reasons. It can be a dangerous business, being the mayor." Vanessa looked back at the Normbots with concern. Doofenshmirtz called out to the Normbots, "These two are OK. Leave them alone when you see them, unless I command otherwise." The robots continued to hover there in a group. Doofenshmirtz's expression became one of annoyance. "You're dismissed," he said. The Normbots began to disperse and go back to their original places. Vanessa and Charlene stared. Doofenshmirtz moved to put his hand around Vanessa's shoulders, but Charlene beat him to the spot.

"Come on, Vanessa," she said in an icy voice. "We're here; what do you think about this?"

Vanessa had no answer to the question. She could hardly believe all that had happened. Why hadn't any of this made it to the news? Why had everything seemed so safe in her house in the suburbs? Why did things seem, dangerous, now that she was here with her dad? Didn't she want to see him?

Vanessa stood, uncertain, as her father began walking towards the house. He looked over his shoulder at them and smiled.

"Come on!" she shouted cheerfully, waving them forward. "Everything's perfectly safe!"

Vanessa and Charlene looked at each other, and then started towards him.

_This is his house, after all,_ Vanessa thought to herself, trying to keep up a courageous and optimistic and fearless impression. _Why would he himself walk into a dangerous place? He is my Dad, after all, no matter how creepy. He wouldn't do anything to me or Mom._

And yet, as they entered the front door, Vanessa felt that she was being watched. She cast a fearful glance about her, and saw nothing. As she stepped inside, she was still sure that her father wouldn't dare hurt either Charlene or herself.

The real question was: were there others who gladly would?


	32. Chapter 30: Never Know What Hit Him

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Thanks to all those who read and reviewed "When Life Gives You". I'm glad that it was enjoyed! Sadly, it hasn't gotten as many as I hoped it would get. . .**

**Thanks, Shadowayn! You were the first one to review it!**

**Now, onto the tale! (I'm gonna have to rename this story "The Longest Story Ever Written in the History of Fanfiction" or something like that. . .XD)**

**(Third-Person POV)**

_**"WHAT?!"**_

The unfortunate bearer of the bad news (Dr. Bloodpudding himself) cringed at the very powerful outburst that issued forth from the mouth of the RESATID leader. This reaction was expected, of course, but it's one thing to be expecting something, and quite another to have that same thing actually happen to you. So, despite the many times that Dr. Bloodpudding rehearsed this conversation in his head, he was practically blown off his feet due to the force which Rodney now assaulted him with.

"You mean to tell me," Rodney continued, screaming out his thoughts at the shocked scientist before him, "that there is someone, _**in Danville, **_who so happens to know about _**OUR ORGANIZATION?!" **_Dr. Bloodpudding was still getting over the first yell that he had received from Rodney. He cleared his throat.

"Yes," he said, "I promise you right now, though, Rodney: I had absolutely nothing to do with him figuring anything out." Rodney wheeled and glared at the scientist standing before him.

"Who was it," he asked between clenched teeth. It was all Bloodpudding could do not to gulp.

"I don't his name, or where he lives," began the crazy-haired scientist, "but he was a rather stout boy; I'd say, either 7 or 8. He was wearing Dooferalls, just like everyone else in this crazy town; he had light brown hair and wore pink glasses."

Rodney began to pace the floor, his mind working like mad. He didn't have much information on the situation at hand; not enough to track that boy down and keep him from blabbing, anyhoo. Something else would have to be done, but Rodney could come up with only one other plan; and he wasn't sure if they were ready yet. He walked over to a desk sitting conveniently in the middle of the room, and sat down in the chair (also convenient) which had been placed by the desk. He sat down and, with a rather loud sigh, placed his head in his hands. This is something that he did whenever he was thinking very hard about something; or, at least, that's what he did when he wanted it to appear that he was thinking very hard about something. Dr. Bloodpudding shifted his feet and waited for Rodney to speak. Finally, Rodney raised his head.

"Does this boy," said the evil scientist, "does he know anything about the Secret Weapon?" Dr. Bloodpudding was silent for a few moments before answering.

"Yes," he said, not looking into Rodney's eyes as he said it, "the boy did know about the Secret Weapon." There was a moment of silence, and then Dr. Bloodpudding continued in a rush, "I assure you, sir, that I had nothing to do with this; nothing at all! I swear! I don't know how someone so low could have managed to. . ." Rodney held up a hand, cutting the scientist off in mid-sentence.

"Yes, yes," he said in a tone that sounded almost weary, "you already told me that you had nothing to do with all of this. And I don't believe you did, either. Although," Rodney muttered the last sentence softly to himself, "I wouldn't be surprised if any of the scientists here went around blabbing information to everyone they meet."

Rodney pushed back the chair and reached under the desk. Dr. Bloodpudding watched with curiosity and some confusion as the large-headed scientist rummaged around underneath the desk. All at once he sat straight up, cleared his throat, and yelled at the top of his lungs:

"ORVILLE!"

For a few moments (but what seemed like years to the two scientists) there was silence. Then the patter of footsteps coming down the hallway, and finally the boy's head appeared around the doorway.

"You called, father?" Orville stated the question in his usual "I'm-better-than-anyone-else-in-this-entire-room" tone of voice. Rodney got up and walked over to his son.

"Where's the Weapon?" Rodney asked, in an "I-think-you-took-something-from-me-and-if-you-don't-give-it-back-now-someone's-going-to-get-hurt-and-that-someone-won't-be-me" tone of voice. Orville, however, didn't seem fazed by his father's anger; at least, he didn't show that he was fazed on the outside.

"It's in my room," said Orville, taking off his glasses and beginning to clean them with a cloth that came out of nowhere. "You commanded me to take it somewhere safe. My room's the safest place in this whole building; admit it." Orville finished cleaning his glasses and adjusted them just so on his face. He looked up at his father, to see what he would say. Rodney looked very annoyed at the moment.

"Everything you have," began his father in a strained voice, as if he had trouble keeping calm at the moment, "is always something "-est". I don't _care_ is your room is the "_safest_" place in this whole building. You know I told you to put it in a safe place _in my laboratory_. Now go get the Weapon from your room and _bring it to me right now."_ Orville began walking to the door. He stopped mid-way and turned around.

"Now?" he asked. Dr. Bloodpudding was surprised when Rodney didn't pick up the desk chair and fling it at his son's head.

_"Right Now."_ Rodney's voice suggested that there was going to be some serious chair-throwing if Orville didn't do what he was told or talked back. Orville marched out in some sort of huff, and the two scientists listened to the sound of Orville marching angrily down the hall. The silence quickly became awkward, but Dr. Bloodpudding dared not speak. Finally, (after a much longer wait than last time) Orville came marching back into the room; that's what it looked like he was trying to do, anyway. It was very hard for him to march, however, because now he was lugging a pet carrier behind him; and the pet carrier was upside-down. Rodney stomped over to his son, pushed him aside, and flipped the carrier right-side up.

"What were you trying to do," stormed Rodney, "damage the Weapon?!" Orville rolled his eyes, but made sure that his Dad didn't see him do it.

"No," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Dad, the Weapon won't break if you flip it onto its back. You know that. I know that. We both worked on it." Rodney slapped his hand over his head and slowly dragged it down his face.

"Please go out of the room, Orville," Rodney said in a barely audible tone, "_Now._"

This time, Orville was smart enough not to contradict his father in any way, but exited quickly and quietly. Rodney picked up the carrier and set it down on the desk. Dr. Bloodpudding examined it closely. Something moved inside of the carrier, and a light glowed from behind the little door. Dr. Bloodpudding, who had been in the process of putting his hand into the carrier, thought better of it and drew his hand back. Rodney smirked.

"Wise decision, Bloodpudding," he said. Rodney sat down again, and stroked the carrier. He stared straight ahead, but was not looking at anything; it was something that he did while thinking. Finally, his hand stopped moving. He blinked, and then looked at Bloodpudding. He cleared his throat.

"Dr. Bloodpudding," Rodney said in a commanding tone of voice, "gather the other scientists for a meeting immediately. We're going to have to modify our schedule." Rodney stood up, signifying that the conversation was over. Dr. Bloodpudding nodded, got up, and left the room to call the other scientists. Rodney picked up the pet carrier and peered inside of it. He smiled.

"Heinz will never know what hit him," Rodney stated in a satisfied tone.

** Author's Note:**

** That's what you wish, Rodney! For "When Life Gives You", I don't own Phineas and Ferb, The Sound of Music (I do, however, own "The Sound of Citrus"), Star Wars (I do own "The Citrus Strikes Back"), or any other references that I made in the commercial/story thing.**


	33. Chapter 31: Eye to Eye

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** YEA! Now I'm gettin' somewhere!**

**(Third-Person POV)**

Doofenshmirtz was reading his emails. He had gotten a new computer, and it most certainly did NOT have a virus in it. He barely acknowledged Charlene's presence when she walked into the room and seated herself on the couch. She turned the TV on, but she wasn't paying attention to the program. She glanced sidelong at her ex-husband, certain that at any moment he would rush at her and do something. . .really awful to her. Doof took a few long slurps of Coca-Cola as he read his email. Charlene cleared her throat.

"So," she asked, her voice unintentionally shooting upwards a few octaves, "What did you plan for today?" Silence greeted her question, as Doof continued reading and humming to himself. Charlene cleared her throat, and tried again.

"Excuse me," she said, louder, "Heinz, what are we. . .Heinz. HIENZ!" Doofenshmirtz reluctantly tore his eyes from the computer screen and looked at Charlene. To him, his ex-wife was about as close to him as Melancholy was.

"What," he asked, his voice sounding irritated. Charlene couldn't look him in the eye.

"What is going on?" she asked. "Why are you keeping Vanessa and me here?" Doof rolled his eye. Strangely enough, it wasn't very satisfying.

"Because you're family, DUH," he said matter-of-factly. "Now leave me alone; I need to read these emails." He turned away from Charlene and resumed reading emails and humming to himself. Charlene pursed her lips; her anger was overcoming her fear. She suddenly stood up, marched over to her ex-husband, and glared at him over the computer screen.

"Tell me why you're allowing us to stay here," she demanded in a severe tone. "You obviously don't care all that much about me; and I don't know how much you care for Vanessa, either. Considering you're behavior in the past few days, I can tell that you consider us two as more of a nuisance than family. Whatever your intentions are, I'm certain that it's NOT out of charity or love for your other family members. Technically speaking, I'm not even a family member anymore."

"Then why did you keep the name?" Doofenshmirtz asked, not taking his eyes off of the screen. Charlene hadn't expected that Heinz would actually be listening to her.

"Because the annual Doofenshmirtz Family Get-Togethers were fun," she retorted, "and don't change the subject! I want to know the truth behind letting us stay here, and if you think that you can just change the subject, then you are quite mistaken. In fact, if we're such a bother for you, Vanessa and I can just. . ."

Charlene was just then rudely interrupted by Doof doing one of the most disgusting and yet one of the most commonly done takes ever created in the history of cartoons: he spit out an entire mouthful of soda all over the keyboard, computer screen, and Charlene's face.

Charlene took the glasses off of her face and began to clean them violently.

"What was THAT for?!" she nearly screamed at Heinz, who was trying to clean off the keyboard with his long black coat.

"Nothing concerning you," he snapped, not even looking at her. _What the heck what the heck what the heck. . ._ He was thinking this over and over again as he scanned the email.

_Doofenshmirtz,_

_ Come to my house as soon as is convenient for you. I have some news concerning a "rebellion", which has the potential of a threat to your position as unchallenged Mayor._

_ Info-Broker_

Doofenshmirtz rubbed his head with his hands. Then he logged out, shut off his computer, stood up, and walked to the door. Charlene rushed forward, but was roughly shoved aside. Burning with anger, confusion, and fear, Charlene pulled on the arm of his coat.

"What are you doing now?" she nearly screamed. "You're just going to leave me here without explaining anything? You're just going to walk out the door and expect me to stay put? Where are you going?" She beat against him with clenched fists. Doofenshmirtz didn't even look at her.

_She sure hasn't changed much_, he thought, _unless you count the fact that she is way wimpier than I last remembered her._ Once again he pushed her aside.

"I'm not telling you where I'm going, and you're not following me," he stated, no, ordered her sternly. "You're going to stay put with Vanessa if you know what's best for you and her." He walked out the door, and was about to close it. He opened it again and looked Charlene straight in the eye.

"You're being watched," Doofenshmirtz hissed, "And when I get back, you and I are going to have to have a good long chat." He slammed the door shut with a bang. Charlene stood, shaking, although she didn't know why she was. Calling herself a big baby and a wimp, she finally forced herself to open the door. She could see nothing down the long, dim hallway; but everything seemed suddenly frightening; and she felt small and helpless. All at once, despite how she hated his presence, Doofenshmirtz was the only person who knew all the ins and outs of this building, and he would keep her safe; for the time being.

Vanessa sat in one of the guest rooms in the D.E.I.C. (Doofenshmirtz Evil Imperial Center) and hugged a pillow close to her. She had heard the sound of a car's engine, and had seen her Dad's car drive down the street and turn a corner. She felt the same way about her Dad as Charlene did. She recalled how badly she had wanted to see her Dad, and get to know him. Now that her wish had come true, she was faced with an imperative question: was this what she really had wanted? At the moment, she really wasn't sure. All at once, as the engine's noise died away into the distance, she felt terribly lonely, and longed for her mother's presence. She slid out of bed, tiptoed across the floor, and opened the door a crack. As crazy as it seemed, she felt that couldn't trust this building; or anything that might be in it. She heard the whirring of machinery; the type of noise made by the Normbots as they flew around the large building; patrolling all of its floors. She ran down the hallway and peered around the corner into the next one. She felt silly; and yet it seemed the right, and wise, thing to do. One couldn't be too cautious. She dashed for the next wall, and then stopped mid-way.

A shadow suddenly rose up on the wall, and a metallic clanking noise started forward; towards where Vanessa was standing. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, Vanessa barely stifled a gasp. She started walking backwards, very slowly, not making a sound. The clanking noise got louder and faster, as if whatever was behind the wall could sense her. Vanessa, still going backwards, began to hurry. Then she turned her back on the hallway and ran. She seemed to have grown wings; she rushed from room to room, hallway to hallway, desperately trying to escape that thing. Even after the robotic sounds died away, she could still hear the clanking in her head, coming closer and closer.

Finally, she stopped. She was sweating and gasping for breath. She couldn't run anymore; even if she had to. There was a deathly quiet that enveloped both her and everything around her; Vanessa couldn't even hear the Normbots.

_Clank. . .clank. . .clank._

Vanessa looked up. Her eyes widened. The thing was back; it was coming closer.

_Clank. . .clank. . .clank, clank, clank. . ._

It was coming faster; closer. Any second now, it would find her; and then. . .

_Clank, clank, clank, clank. . .clank. . .clank_

It stopped. It was directly in front of her. A moment, several moments, passed. Years and eons seemed to rush by all in those moments. A clicking noise caused Vanessa to finally, slowly, raise her head. She froze. Vanessa found herself unable to move, or think, or even breathe. Her breath was caught in her throat; her stomach turned and felt burning hot; and yet she was icy cold and goose bumps stuck up all over her skin.

Two brown eyes stared squarely into hers. And a gun barrel was resting against her forehead.


	34. Chapter 32: Off With a Bang

The OWCA agents, squashed together in their cells, looked at each other in the silence that enveloped the building. They had been like this ever since they had arrived at the prison. They had been hauled in by Normbots, but someone (or something) had followed them the whole way back to the D.E.I.C. and had surveyed the cells, making sure that they were to its liking. The agents never got to see what was following them, but Carl did. He now sat, scrunched up in a ball inside of one of the cells. At the last moment, before the Normbots could completely surround the room that he was in, still standing over fallen Carly, he had made a sudden and desperate dash for freedom.

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_He had shoved his way through the agents standing before him, feeling Monogram's questioning eyes boring holes into his back. He had ducked and swerved away from the laser blasts in all directions, focusing his thoughts on making out of the building alive, and with the information chip. Carl had been surprised at how far he had actually gotten before he heard a blaster going off, and a red laser shot past his head._

**That wasn't fired at random**_, he thought with alarm, _**that was an intentional shot**_._

_Running, ducking, jumping, dropping to the floor, Carl did his best to evade the shots being fired at him. His hand went into his pocket, and he pulled it out again, making sure that he still had the microchip with him. There it had lain, safe in his hand. Then the laser came again. This time, it hit. Carl had fallen forwards, completely shocked by the blow. Pain seared through his arm, and the chip went flying. Carl had scrambled to his knees, trying to block out the pain. He just needed to grab that chip, and run out the door. He could even see the exit door in the distance._

**Whir-clank, whiiir-clank, whir-clank**_, closer and closer. It didn't sound like a Normbot. Carl struggled towards the chip, the pain in his arm becoming almost unbearable; his shirt sleeve stained red. A metal hand reached for it and stopped, suspended just above the chip. It was as if the thing were waiting for the last moment, right before Carl got there, to pick it up. The red-headed teen would not give up so easily. He didn't know how he had done it, but he was on his feet. He prepared to lunge at the really. . .short. . .robot standing with its back turned to him; examining the microchip. It also had a tail. . . Carl stood, shocked by the strange appearance of this Normbot. It wheeled around without any warning, and glared right at Carl. Carl took a step back. He __**knew**__ those eyes. Somehow, somewhere, he had seen those eyes before, but they had been different than these. They hadn't been empty, or hate-filled. The duck bill. The oddly-shaped tail. The few uncovered parts of teal fur. But most of all, those eyes. _

_Carl stepped back, horrified. This was worse than killing Wanda. Was it worse than killing Carly? Yes, in a sense. Better to kill someone rather than to force them to work for the enemy. Holding the microchip in one of his metal hands, the cyborg advanced, the eyes narrowing into slits, the mouth twitching into a small smile, coming closer._

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Now here he was, locked up with the others. And even worse, he had failed **both** of his missions. He had failed to protect the microchip (which Monogram told him to do), and he had failed to steal the chip for Doofenshmirtz (which he had been ordered to do). He didn't want to talk to anyone; they all knew now as well as he did that he was a traitor. That he had joined ranks with the evil scientist. Carl heard Monogram mutter something, then the patter of paws. Carl lifted his head slowly and turned to see who was approaching him. It was Sheila, followed in the rear by Pinky. Those two were close; in times of need, you never saw one without the other.

Pinky and Sheila were unable to express their thoughts to Carl through words, but as they rubbed their heads up and down his legs, and licked his face a few times, they made it quite clear to the boy that they, and everyone else in the jail cells with them, had forgiven him. Besides, he had turned from his evil ways and tried to get the chip away from Doof in the end, right?

Before anyone knew what was happening, both Sheila and Pinky were in Carl's arms, shivering. The other agents bunched more closely together, some of them holding onto the other agents in fear. Monogram looked upward, a startled and. . .could it be. . .a scared look on his face. It was a moment later when Carl realized why everyone was acting this way. It was the sound of a gun. But it wasn't (as Carl listened closely to it) like the laser blasts that the Normbots fired. These were too quick. And he was certain that the sound didn't belong to. . .he couldn't even bear to mention his name. No, it wasn't a laser, it was a gun. But who was firing it, and at whom was it aimed? None of them knew; they had no choice but to stay, bunkered down in the dark, and fear the worst.

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Vanessa fell to the ground. She put both hands over her head as the sound of bullets being fired sounded from outside. Several of them penetrated the wall, and she could hear them whizzing over her head. Looking up, Vanessa saw that the cyborg running down the hall.

_Probably to get some Normbots,_ she thought.

Wait. What was she doing just lying there?! More bullets could be heard; some seemed farther away, some seemed to be right next to her head; she couldn't really tell how far away or how close they really were to her. She waited for the sound of the firing bullets to abate a bit before getting up and tearing down the hall. She turned a corner and ran right into her father. She clung to him as he stood there, stroking her hair.

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Charlene dropped the piece of laundry that she was folding. Here she was, all alone in this huge house; no idea where Vanessa or her ex- were, and the building was surrounded by a bunch of murderous freaks. The metal cyborg raced past her, and she didn't get a good look at it. Whatever it was, she knew it was too small to be a Normbot.

_Probably just some robotic pest pet that Doof made for himself_, she mused.

Charlene glanced fearfully around, waiting for some sinister figure to jump out of nowhere, pointing a gun to her head.

The gun noises slowed, then stopped as suddenly as they had started. Vanessa looked up into her father's face. He looked down at her frightened one.

"What. . ." Vanessa could barely talk. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What, what was. . .what was. . .?"

"Shhhhh," Doof murmured. "Perry-borg and the Normbots are surveying the area around the building even as we stand here." Vanessa looked confused.

"Perry-borg?"

"He's my general."

"You mean that little animal-robot thing that was trying to shoot me?" Doof stared.

"What?"

"It's. . .sort of a long story." Doofenshmirtz hugged his daughter even closer. "Everything is going to be OK now."

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She slung the gun across her back. She turned and watched the Normbots as they hovered closer to her hiding spot. Turning quickly, she scaled the building, crossed over the top, and dropped down onto the other side. Her wild yellow hair stuck straight up in the air, and some of it drooped and got in her face. She shook the dirty yellow strands from her eyes, and glanced around the side of the building. She could see one of the Normbots coming closer.

Taking the gun from her back, she stood, perched on a windowsill, focusing on the Normbot's head. Her lips twitched upward, pulling her face into a wide smile; at least, a wider smile than it had been before (if that were even possible). She had made a smashing entrance; her exit might as well go off with a bang (rimshot app heard in the background).

Platyborg turned in mid-air, focusing his attention at the building where there had been a shot, and a Normbot fell from the sky to the ground.

"I believe that is where the enemy is found," one of the Normbots stated in its deep, hostile voice. Platyborg nearly face-palmed.

_You THINK?!_

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Doofenshmirtz wasn't sure what had just happened; he was on his way home when he had heard the sound of gun shots. He had sped the rest of the way home, where he had rightly suspected the shooting to be coming from. He had barely entered the building when Vanessa had come crashing into him from nowhere. Like I had stated before, Doof had no idea what or who was behind this, but he did know one thing: whoever, or whatever, this was, it knew what it was doing. And it was after the Doofenshmirtz family.

**Author's Note:**

**The one section all in italics is a past scene. Thoughts and words spoken in a past scene are in bold. This assassin person is NOT Rodney; he comes in a very short while. And no, this wasn't the action-filled chapter that I had been talking about, either. That's the one with Rodney in it. The assassin person is a character that I just introduced into the story. I'm not giving away who it is yet, but here are initials to what I think her name is (I know, I don't even know the character's name):**

**CDRL**

**Happy guessing!**


	35. Chapter 33: Friends and Name-Callers

**PlatyborgstoShadowlytes:**** Hey, everybody. **

**OK. I would really, really, REALLY like to apologize for taking forever to update. I would also like to thank all those who have continued to wait patiently and didn't keep pestering me about when I was going to update next. It is really appreciated.**

**Unfortunately, due to a busy school life, life in general, and the holidays right around the bend (not to mention my 15****th**** birthday), I will not be updating as much as I personally would like to. My progress on stories is likely to increase when the New Year comes around (because I highly doubt that the world is really going to end on the 21****st****. I mean, come on, who would?).**

**Also, for anyone who might be into this sort of thing, I've also started my first Ninjago fanfiction story. It's called **_**Flipped: Secret of the Shadow Tokens Book I**_** or something like that. So far, I'm still on the 1****st**** book (you could probably tell from the title), and it's going to be a six-book series.**

**OH! And before I forget, the one action-packed chapter with Rodney in it has to be pushed back (and it's all Platyborg's fault), because of a small, yet significant, detail in the chapter which I remembered shortly after saying (and typing) that it was coming up really soon. So, yea. But don't worry; I've still got action coming up real soon!**

**(Headwall)**

**(Third-Person POV)**

Tomorrow. Isabella looked around the playground at all the kids. Tomorrow she would be 8 years old. It was hard to believe it; it hardly seemed like any time had passed at all since her 7th birthday. In fact, she could still remember what her cake had been like last year; a huge ring, with purple and pink sprinkles all over it. She, of course, had blown out the candles, the other fireside girls, who had become her best friends, cheering her on and all taking turns extinguishing the orange and red flames. Her mother had commented on how "her little girl was growing up so quickly," and her father had taken picture after picture of the great day.

Isabella's father, Paul Juan Garcia-Shapiro*, was his daughter's hero and model. He was actually very interested, and skilled, in the science department; and yet, Isabella almost wished that he didn't know anything special. If he didn't know how to do anything worth being noticed, then the evil _Mayor_ Doofenshmirtz might not have forced him into working for him in a lab with some other people who knew the same things that he knew. Isabella curled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them; staring down at the recess scene from where she was perched on top of the slide.

"Hey, you!" a gruff, almost hoarse, sounding voice came from behind her. Isabella turned to see a rather bulky boy with dark brown hair and pale skin looking at her with impatience. "I don't have all day to wait for you. There are other kids on this playground, in case you didn't notice." Isabella gave herself a push, and she went shooting down the slide. At the top of the slide, another voice, much higher-pitched, was heard.

"That wasn't a nice way to say that, Buford."

Next thing Isabella knew, a small, dark-skinned boy with black, somewhat poofy hair, came racing down the slide backwards, and head-first.

"Owww," the boy muttered, rubbing the back of his head with an expression that spelled out "annoyance". Isabella helped the skinny boy up on his feet.

"Thank you," said the boy as he brushed off his Dooferalls, "My name is Baljeet." He stuck out his hand with a small smile.

_This boy certainly is polite,_ Isabella thought to herself as she shook the outstretched hand. "My name's Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, Isabella for short."

"COMING THROUGH!" the pale-skinned boy who had been talking to Isabella earlier came rushing down the slide; narrowly missing squashing Baljeet to a pulp.

"Dude!" the boy exclaimed, clearly irritated. "You moved!"

"Well of course I moved, _Buford_. That would only be anyone's reaction to almost being squashed flat like a pancake!" Buford rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." Buford turned to Isabella. "Hey, Izzy," he said. Baljeet sighed, and Isabella blushed.

"He likes to give out pointless nicknames," Baljeet stated, "in case you haven't already figured that out yet." Isabella sidestepped Baljeet and marched right up to Buford. Buford looked at her with some alarm, and amusement.

"Oooh," he said, taking a step back. "I am SO scared. What are you gonna do to me, Miss Frizz? You gonna punch me like a Creepy little-"

Buford never got to say what Isabella would punch him like, because just then Isabella had grabbed the front of his Dooferalls and pulled the large boy to her eye level.

"Listen, amigo," she muttered, her face red, "It's not Izzy, not Miss Frizz, it's Isabella. ISABELLA. Got that?" With that Isabella released her grip and Buford went stumbling backwards.

"Uh, sure," he said, suddenly subdued, "Whatever you say, Isabella."

"OK," Isabella said, brightening up once more. "I hope we get to become friends, all of us," she added. "It gets kinda lonely, trying to play by myself." Baljeet nodded.

"I totally understand what you're talking about," he said.

"I go wherever he is," Buford stated, pointing at Baljeet. Isabella stretched her hand out. Baljeet put his hand on top of her, and Buford put his on the very top.

"Friends?" Baljeet questioned. Buford and Isabella nodded.

"Friends," they all said simultaneously, shaking hands all around.

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_ The scientists were all on lunch break. Paul had gone out with the rest of the small group, but not without looking one last time at the picture of his daughter, Isabella, and his wife, Vivian._

_ Doofenshmirtz walked in just a few minutes after the other scientists left. He wanted to survey their work, and see where they had failed horribly, and where they might have accomplished something actually useful._

_ He was walking past Paul's test table when it happened. He didn't know how it had come about; one minute he was sidestepping the numerous beakers and mixtures set out all over the place, next minute, he had slipped. The table, being rather flimsy, wobbled furiously, and the mixtures sloshed back and forth. One of the beakers, which had been placed on the edge of the table, tipped, and the bluish liquid splashed into one of the jars which had been left, for some unknown reason, on the floor. Doofenshmirtz quickly wiped up the mess with a towel, and placed the jar with the mixed liquids onto the table. He then hurriedly retreated from the work space; just as lunch break ended._

_ Paul laughed loudly at the joke that one of his partners had just told him, and he moved to his table. He looked at it, to make sure that not one thing was out of place. He frowned as he glanced at the beaker sitting precariously on the edge of the table. He didn't want to risk anything getting spilled!_

_ He picked it up and looked at it carefully. Odd. He didn't remember the liquid being so dark. Paul stared at it a moment longer, then shrugged and shook his head. Vivian was always telling him that he was overly cautious; hadn't he learned yet?_

_ Laughing quietly to himself, he glanced down at the picture, his gaze full of love and affection. He then picked up another beaker and began slowly pouring it into the jar of (unknowing to him) mixed liquids._

***Paul Juan Garcia-Shapiro is not my character. He is my younger sister's version of Isabella's Dad. I just happen to like him a lot. NOTE: This is one of the few only OCs who will actually appear in this story. I have included none of my own.**

**Author's Note:**

**Yea, I decided to help you poor readers out (since I'm nice that way), by giving you one word for the next four chapters for CDRL's name. The first word (the one that starts with "C") is included in this chapter somewhere; let's see if you can find it! X)**


	36. Chapter 34: Things That Bind Us Tight

**ThePro-LifeCatholic:** **As many of you can probably guess, I won't be doing that much activity on here during the school year. Weekends, maybe; but don't expect much.**

**Thank you for patiently waiting, and yes, before anyone asks, this story is going to get better. I promise.**

**(Third Person POV)**

The figure, who was dressed in jeans with a gray jacket covering up his shirt, stood amid the wreckage of the OWCA headquarters. It already looked like some activity was going on around the vacant lot; several working machines were parked close to the area where the OWCA Headquarters once stood.

The figure's name was Monty; and if the mayor Doofenshmirtz had any idea that Monty was even alive, he would be under Danville's Most Wanted. Monty pushed his hand through his brown hair, sticking it up on end. Why hadn't his father called him? Now everything that Monty had was gone. He didn't even know if his father was still alive. He had been coming home from school, walking as opposed to taking the Doofway cars (Doofenshmirtz's twist on subway cars), or a Doof-bus. Basically, he was doing his best to avoid any confrontation with anything that had "Doof" in its name. It was the smell of smoke and the huge amount of Normbot that drew him to this street; it was one that was familiar to him. Monty would usually stop by at least once a day to see how things were going at the HQ, and to see if his Dad, Francis Monogram, needed any help. As soon as Monty had seen where the Normbots were headed, he immediately grasped what must have happened. And here he was now; but he was too late.

Monty kicked aside a piece of debris; it looked like it could have been part of a computer or something else technological. Something orange caught his eye; he ran over and cleared away the junk. He lifted the lifeless body of a tabby cat from the rubble, and brushed the dirty fur clean. Setting the dead agent back on the ground, Monty wheeled and kicked hard at the ground. Pieces of metal, cement, and other such materials went flying, and a cloud of dust arose. Monty turned and ran from the place; how could this have happened? How and why could anyone be capable of performing such an act? Monty didn't stop running until he had reached his own house.

Monty plopped down on the couch, letting his book bag (with a large "D" on the front) slide to the ground. Picking up the remote, Monty flipped through the channels.

_I wonder if our esteemed mayor has anything to say about the horrible things he's done recently, _Monty thought bitterly.

_Doofenshmirtz Evil News Uuuuuuuuuupdaaaaaaaaaate! _Sang the television. Monty crossed his arms, waiting to see what the news report of the day would be. He couldn't help but be a bit surprised when, instead of the usual Normbot giving the news report, it was Doofenshmirtz himself who appeared on the screen.

"Hello to all the miserable citizens of Danville," Doofenshmirtz began. "I hope your day today is going absolutely horridly. Today is an important day here in Danville, since it marks the first capture of an enemy of mine, who was doing everything in his power to undermine my just rule."

Monty leaned forward, unsure of whether or not he dared hope who that "enemy" was. When his father's face appeared on the TV, Monty felt a smile spreading across his lips. He was alive, and that was what mattered. Doofenshmirtz, however, wasn't finished.

"That's right, folks," he continued, his mouth curling into a small smile, "and this enemy, who goes by the name of Francis Monogram, is, right at this very moment, going to make a formal apology for what he has done; for he knows just as well as anyone watching this program, who's really in the right. And that's me," he added, as if no one could guess that answer from the way that the mayor was talking. Major Monogram opened his mouth, and began.

"He. . .is absolutely right. It was wrong of me to wage war against this man, who does not deserve it in the least bit. In fact, I am the one in the wrong, for I waged war against him. He did not start any fights with my organization; it was I who ordered the agents of my organization to begin destroying Normbots. And the Normbots weren't even doing anything to threaten our organization! So, in the end, it is I who must apologize to the mayor, not vice versa. If I am punished, then I deserve it; for it is I who am in the wrong. It is simply folly to try rebelling against someone who's working for the greater good of Danville." Monogram stepped back, his head hung in submission. Doofenshmirtz's grin was a full-out smile; it seemed as if he were doing his best not to burst out laughing.

"You heard him, folks! An official, thorough, and completely true apology given to the world by one of my enemies. He is, I must admit, a man of great authority; so listen to him! He agrees that people shouldn't be opposing me, so don't you get any ideas about it, either. I hope you have a miserable day!" The screen went black, and Monty turned off the TV. He sat there for a few moments, trying to fathom everything that had just happened. His own father, the leader of an organization intent on fighting for what was good and lawful, just agreed to be loyal to a tyrant. A tyrant who had destroyed a whole organization of innocent agents!

Innocent?

How could Monty know? That's when he realized; he didn't know. Who was telling the truth? In all honesty, Monty didn't know that much about Doofenshmirtz. He knew that he had gotten control of Danville somehow, but how? He had asked his Dad, but Major Monogram had been vague on the details. He usually was. When Monty approached his father with questions about the agency, villains, and the like, the answer was usually something along the lines of,

"Monty, I'm busy right now; I'll get to it later."

Or, more often even than this was:

"Monty, I'm not sure if you're old enough to be bothering about those sorts of things. You leave governing the agency to me and other people who know what they're doing."

_People who know what they're doing?_ What, so Monty _didn't _know what he was doing?

_Who is telling the truth? _thought Monty, ruffling his hair with his hand. _How can I know for sure?_

There was only one way that he could think of where he could learn things for sure; he'd have to get both sides of the story. And the only way he could do that was by talking to each person, the mayor and his father, Doofenshmirtz and Monogram, two men who seemed completely opposite, and learning the real truth behind this story.

* * *

As the screen faded to black, Doofenshmirtz turned on Monogram.

"You're a better actor than I thought!" he exclaimed, clapping the Major on the back. Now that the filming was done, Monogram could look how he really felt; and that was miserable. He was a defeated, miserable liar. The one thing that he thought he'd never do, and he just did it. He lied against the OWCA; turned his back on the agency that he had worked so hard to protect all those years that he had known about it. It was almost more than he could bear. Doofenshmirtz continued talking, as if nothing in the world was wrong (which it wasn't to him).

"I mean, it's truly amazing what people will do to protect the ones that they love, huh?" Doofenshmirtz looked at the Major, whose entire face was pale, with tears trickling down his cheeks.

"That's kinda creepy," Doof said, looking at him. "You're usually so serious. Don't worry, though," he said brightly, slapping Monogram on the back again, "I mean, you kept your end of the deal, right? It's like a win-win." Doofenshmirtz smiled at him, and then proceeded to do a one-Dance-move Dance. Monogram's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean, win-win?" he asked suspiciously, his voice sounding hoarse. Doofenshmirtz stopped dancing, shrugged, and motioned with his hand. Instantly two Normbots, one on either side of Monogram, grabbed hold of his arms as the Mayor began walking away.

"Oh, you know," he said nonchalantly, "Now the citizens of Danville will be even more confused about what stance I have and who I really am, and I in turn will still go through with my first plan of dooming all of the agents still alive and locked up in my dungeon." Monogram's eyes widened; he tried his best to struggle free from the Normbots' (literal) metal grip.

"No!" he screamed. "We had a deal! You agreed to free the agents, all of them, unharmed! You are a liar!" Doof shrugged again.

"Hello, evil!" he exclaimed. "And I really thought that you knew me better than that, Monobrow. I mean, really; you're the head of a top-secret organization that battles 'evil' scientists on a daily basis; I thought you'd get the whole gist of 'never trusting someone who's evil no matter what'."

The sound of gears and metal clanking against metal sounded as a small, robotic creature walked into the room. Monogram's eyes widened more (if that were even possible), and he was barely able to mouth the words:

"No. . .no. . .it, it can't be. . ." Doofenshmirtz smirked, and the metal platypus stopped in front of the mayor, awaiting any command that his master might have for him.

"I mean, really Monogram; I thought you would've figured that out by now."

**Author's Note: So far, there's Creepy. Did anyone find the word beginning with D (I put it in this chapter twice, 'cause I'm nice like that)? Here's a quick recap, for those who are too lazy to look back at the previous chapter and see the lettering:**

**Creepy D R L**

**God bless and have a great day (or night)!**


	37. Oh, No I Wouldn't! that's what you wish

**ThePro-LifeCatholic:**** Oh, yes I would; "Oh" meaning "oh", "yes" meaning "yes", "I" meaning "me" (points to self) and "would" meaning:**

**I'm going to totally trash the 30-something story I have going on right now and rewrite this entire story.**

**(Oh, yea: "meaning" meaning "meaning") :)**

**Yep. I'm not teasing; I'm serious (for all of those who have seen "Kid Snippets" on YouTube).**

**My younger sister said that some people might be angry. Confused. Mildly aggravated. **

"**Why would the author waste so much work?" they might ask. "What does she possibly hope to gain from doing this? Will she finish the story at all, or is she throwing out the window? Will we ever find out about what happens to the Resistance? Will we ever find out who Creepy Dance R L is? Why do we keep listing questions that we might want to ask the author?"**

**Well, here's the answer to those questions that I've listed above (since I'm sure that at least one person would think of some of these):**

**1. Why would I waste so much work? A: Truth be told, when I first started writing it, my writing skills aren't what they are now (I mean, I can tell a small difference; and I think it's one for the best). Not only that, but I've been changing and adding things to my story; which completely changes it. Also, I was doing wrong timing and stuff with some of the goings on in this story; and it's really been a predictable story, now that I look back on it. So in short, I'm not wasting that much work. **

**2. What does ****ThePro-LifeCatholic**** hope to gain from doing this? A: I hope to write a better story. That's pretty much it. It needs to be more unexpected, more dramatic, more intelligent, more entertaining, more flowing. Yea, it just could be a lot better. And that's how I'm gonna make it; better.**

**3. Will I finish the story, or am I just gonna drop it? A: As you can probably tell from the above answers, I'm definitely going to finish this story sometime. I don't know when, but it's gonna happen. Maybe while I'm rethinking it, I may focus on other story ideas that I have, but this story is going to be re-started, and it will be finished.**

**4. Will we ever find out what happens to the Resistance, and the different characters in the story? A: See answer #3.**

**5. Will we ever find out who Creepy Dance R L is? A: See answer #3 (Aren't I evil? I still won't tell you guys. . .:D).**

**6. Why do we keep listing questions that we might want to ask ****ThePro-LifeCatholic****? A: I have no idea why.**

**So yea, there 'ya go. No matter what you say in the comments, that's how it's gonna be. I've made up my mind, and that's that. Believe me, it'll be worth it. I promise.**

**For now, though, you can say good-bye to **_**Wanted: Dead or Destroyed**_**.**

**Before I forget, the new story will have the same name: **_**Wanted: Dead or Destroyed**_** because: 1. I like the name, and 2. It would get **_**way**_** too confusing for people if I tried changing it.**

**God bless and have a great day (or night)!**

**ThePro-LifeCatholic**


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